


The Light On The Moors

by orphan_account



Category: Muse
Genre: AU, Drama, Gothic, Historical, M/M, WW1, edwardian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 82,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Largely based on 'Wuthering Heights'. As Dominic Howard sets down to record his history in his remote ancestral home in the wilderness of the Yorkshire moors, he remembers a lifetime of desire, conflict and loss as a result of one man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**I**

 

25th November 1923-

Today I bought this diary. I bought it from the bookshop in Ingleton on the main road because it was the first diary my fingers brushed past, and not a second could be wasted in something so petty as the book in which I would write. It is urgent that I tell my tale as soon as possible; the words burn within me, they prick at my fingertips and urge my to grab a pen and scrawl those undulating, seething words on every surface, every blank space, for if I try to contain them within me any longer I am certain they will destroy me.

But am I not already destroyed by what has happened? I have endured so much already. My family has been ravaged by war and sorrow. I have lost many of those dear to me. Constantly I am dogged by an awful doubt in my decisions which threatens to tear me in two. How would my life have been, I wonder, if I had not chosen this path? What story would I have to tell, if only I had chosen what I desired more than anything but was too selfish to admit?

I only hope that one day this story will be found, and that some reader, somewhere, will forgive me the actions with which I have condemned myself; be they ten or perhaps a hundred years distant from me, man or woman, rich or poor, old or young- I am sure that it will ring true with many. I cannot walk alone this desolate path! I have reassured myself many a time that I cannot be the only one suffering in this way. Of every human that has ever walked this Earth, or indeed ever will, I cannot be the only one who has become a victim of his own heart.

The story which follows is a compilation of what I can remember from now alongside a collection of letters and diary entries which I have been careful to order as best I can chronologically. I look back at some of them now- dear god, the pain that so many of them carry! I cannot bear to read them for my sight is obscured by tears.

-

From William Howard’s diary, 1903-

_5 th February. _

_Today opened with a frosty gale that chilled the old house to the core. The windows misted and sparkled with a dewy shine,  and the fires were lit so as to set up a roaring breath to keep us all from perishing within, so bitter was the wind! I let out Algernon, but even he found the frosty moorland too much for his paw-pads and scuttled inside to join the rest of us, huddled about the hearth as if the flame were our only lifeline. He and the boy curled up together in the firelight, little hands stroking the velvety undersides of the beast’s ears and threading through the ragged fur of his belly. I am pleased Dominic has taken such a shine to the old hound- that dog has been my companion since before my marriage to his mother, and grey bristles are starting to appear around his elderly muzzle._

_I missed Eleanor quite badly today._

_But these are not the subjects this entry will concern. To dwell on the past is unhealthy; to think on those we have lost is foolish. Today, we gained a new member of the household._

_Mrs Lowe spied him from the library this morning; a tiny black speck, lost in a sea of rolling pale green grass. She had thought it was but a fly crawling on the window-pane, but when she tried to swat it, she looked closer to see the mote blurredly creeping across the barren landscape through the icy condensation, scrubbed the pane- and to her amazement saw a poor hapless creature shivering up to the house. She flew to my side instantly and related what she had seen; I leapt from my studies and threw open the door to behold our visitor. He was far in the distance, a shape barely perceptible on the foggy horizon, but we could still make out a human form pushing through the elements towards us. And I asked her, from where could he have come? Nothing lies to the east of the house; to the west is Ingleton, to the north a quarry perching up by the woods, and stretching far south a great expanse of farmland. It would be plausible to see a man from any of the surrounding landmarks, though why he would be wandering about on a February morning on such a frigid day is suspicious indeed. But from the east? All that lies eastward of Saphney Hall is Ingleborough, a great sandstone mountain which looms above our abode like a surveying monster, and gate to the rolling wilderness of the Yorkshire Dales. And when we rushed to intercept the trespasser, his appearance from the Dales became yet more bewildering._

_The closer we came to him, the more apparent it became that this was no man. It was a boy- and an extremely young one, at that! He barely passed the old mistress’ knee- and he was wrapped up in a great tawny shawl which masked almost all of his tiny body. There was frost encrusted in a thin layer over every inch of him, which must have settled on his diminutive form overnight as he wandered through the dusk-fog, and we wondered, by God, how long had he been out there on his own? I had swept the shivering mite up in my arms and held him tight so as not to let the cold bite any deeper into his flesh, and we whisked him into the parlour and propped him up on my armchair, where he shuddered quite dreadfully for a few minutes before drifting into a light slumber._

_Dominic was quite astonished; the boy could only be his age at most, if not less! We were all unsure of how a boy of only about four years could possibly brave the bitterness of the Dales in the wintertime, and we watched his sleep anxiously as Mrs Lowe got to work on a stew to warm his frozen heart. We were all quite afraid, particularly Dominic, that his frail body would give up its fight against the elements, to the point that my boy began to wail and cry if our visitor grew too still or quiet in his sleep, and I and the housekeeper both had to hold him to comfort him again. Why he had grown so attached so quickly was beyond us, but ah, children! So much love they have in their little hearts, so much naivety, so much trust! He was so enchanted with the viator, and still is, as I write now. The boy sleeps in Dominic’s room, safe and sound now, and my son refuses to leave his side. I am proud that he has taken such responsibility for the newcomer._

_We got a better look at his face once Mrs Lowe had washed and fed him. He watched us dumbly like a doll, dressed up in Dominic’s clothes, blackish hair newly cut and with wet locks slicked back, revealing china-white skin which clung to his hollow face in a slightly sickly fashion. Though there was some pinkness blossoming in his cheeks since his meal, it was apparent that he had not eaten in a long while, and upon closer inspection that immaculate skin was dried and coarsened by the unforgiving climate he had braved. His small pink lips were dark and chapped, with a scabbed slit through the middle which had been red with dried blood. He was thin and small, appearing like a toy rather than a real human as he nestled in the fabric of the armchair, his eyes round and bloodshot, and twinkling an astonishing blue. We have tried our hardest to communicate with him, but he seems to be mute- he has not uttered so much as a whimper since we first happened upon him! Mrs Lowe complained that it was most frightening for a child to be so lifeless and distant, but I understand he must be frightened and disoriented- he cannot be blamed for his silence._

_I cannot begin to think of the suffering he must have undergone. Though he is almost princely in his features, I can only think he is of a poor heritage- how a wealthy boy could endure such misfortune, I do not know- perhaps his parents could not afford to care for him, and so he was abandoned out on the moor, and not expected to survive the night? Dominic came to me and asked, is that boy a faerie? Or a ghost? And I cannot deny the resemblance- there is some mystical look in those blazing eyes, something not of this world- Dominic does so love those fantasy books. All these strange appearances and rumours of elves and pixie-folk dancing over the hilltops have quite ignited his imagination.  It is certainly a welcome change from his missing his mother._

_Night is beginning to fall upon the house now; our guest still sleeps most soundly in his bed. Dominic has been fetching him water all day, and asks constantly about him and his ambiguous origin; I have instructed Mrs Lowe to help me in my endeavours to create fantastical possibilities to entertain him, and I am sure he is half convinced that the child is a faerie prince who has lost his magical court. I must remember to ask about the village tomorrow if anyone has any knowledge of a lost boy about the area, and if not- if we do not have any success in locating any relatives of his- I am not yet sure what we shall do. Dominic implores me to let him stay with us, but I am certain some arrangements will have to take place before that can be allowed. He is rather endearing, however, and I must be said that it would be quite beneficial to all of us to have one more whimsical child to devote our attention to in this house._

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

_19 th February._

_I am sorry to say that a whole two weeks have passed and nobody has claimed the boy as their kin. I say I am sorry- but I mean, I_ should _be sorry. Yet part of me is undeniably gladdened to keep him. I did try my absolute best, and so did Mrs Lowe- we went on rounds around the village, asking our neighbours after a lost boy, and even went as far as to visit the surrounding hamlets; Thornton in Lonsdale was too bare of people to ask any, all dusty tombs in the cemetery and morning mist. As we expected, the larger village of Bentham was not the place of the child’s origin, and even sending the housekeepers up round the mountain to the verdant forestside of Clapham was to no avail. I even asked for a notice to be put in the local paper, but still no responses, even by letter, have come from anywhere in the region. Where does the lad hail from, then? Still he has no power of speech; whether he is unconfident, or simply uneducated, I am unsure. So he cannot voice his knowledge, if he is lucid enough to have it in the first place. Thus, the urchin remains a mystery._

 _Therefore we are left with only one possibility; the child must stay with us. I see no other option than to raise him as my own. This morning already I have visited the town hall to notify the officials that he is to be adopted by me. Dominic is overjoyed; he prizes his new “brother” like nothing else in the_ _world_. _Mrs Lowe objects to his scruffiness but adores him all the same; what a charming, sweet little fellow he is! Even without words he is infallibly polite and respectful- he has gratefully integrated into our family unit, and we are all glad of it. Algernon, too, has found a new play-mate in him. He is to stay in Dominic’s bedroom (we have had a bed moved into the room from my brother’s house in Bentham for him- it is somewhat out of place with its old-fashioned attire, but will do) and the madam has set about making some new clothes for our new young master. There is still the matter of his name- since no family has shown their affiliation to him, we are clueless to his identity. We decided amongst us to give him Eleanor’s maiden name- Bellamy, as we do not wish to deceive him into thinking he is of the Howard bloodline. As for his Christian name, we settled upon the name of Mrs Lowe’s poor deceased brother Matthew, whom we lost last year to a terrible fall when wandering in the Dales, and his middle name- ah, there was no question. I let him share the name James with my own dear son, as they are so very alike in personality and so touchingly close already. I wish for them never to be parted._

-

And it seems here that I must introduce the other characters in my history, for little Matthew would not be the only one to shape my destiny. Our house was called Saphney Hall and sat a little while from the village of Ingleton, within sight of course; though we loved nature, we feared it would be dangerous to stray too far from our fellow human beings. The Hall had been in the possession of the Howard family for years, at least five generations of valiant masters having ruled its corridors. My father was the sixth in his line, and I the seventh. Whether there will be more after me, I do not know.

But this is beside the point. There was another family apart from mine; less wealthy and deeper into the village, but no more than five minutes’ walk from our abode. These were the Wolstenholmes; close friends of ours since my grandfather Harold met Ernest Wolstenholme out on Yockenthwaite- he had sustained a treacherous injury after a grievous fall on the scathing tawny cliffs, and the stranger had appeared from the heather-beds to rescue him. My grandfather owed his life to dear Ernest- it had been so cold and bitter that day, and the freezing evening was almost upon him- he could have perished all too easily!- and so they became lifelong friends. This continued to my father’s generation, and to mine- the two families were wound together tightly like two lengths of thread, the plaiting of which only strengthens the bond.

When young Matthew joined our company, I was but four years old, and the son of Ernest who still dwelt in his old stonewalled house had two younglings of his own; I had been introduced to Christopher, who was two years my senior, and I knew there was a girl, too, who in time I would know to be called Tess; but at this time she was much too little to be let out of the house, only a three-years mite, and she was quite affected by the weather, I heard. She was so sickly that bitter February that they thought she would not survive! But it is suffice to say she would see many a summer after that.

-

_From Charlotte Lowe’s diary, 1903_

_1 st March._

_Such a relief ‘tis to see the sun burning bright and clear in the morning again! I do hate the darkening that winter brings. The master was quite adamant that he be woken early this morning to take the boys for a stroll across to Ingleton to see the sights and sounds. They were away all afternoon, and had missed their luncheon by the time they returned! I do fret for the little ones at times; though Dominic is a handsome, fair boy, he is somewhat aloof: he complains so much about the cold, and even the slightest discomfort reveals a haughty temper! And as for dear, sweet Matthew- he has obviously lived a life quite removed from other people. Save me, the master and his adopted brother whom he clings to so tightly, he refuses to socialise with others. He shrinks from unfamiliar company. And yet, out in the fields he is jovial and content; it seems the world of man is not the place for him. So one can imagine why I would worry so about the pair of them- an expedition into the village would be like the camel of the desert on a journey to the frozen icy climes of the Arctic._

_But William was quite pleased upon the return; there was a most remarkable smile upon his face, the two children holding his hands on either side with bashful grins on their blushing cheeks, and I asked him, what’s been so fortunate in Ingleton to make you so cheerful as this? And with vigour, he replied:_

_“Oh Madam, we’ve had a run-in with the finest man in town,” He began, and I knew at once he was speaking of his beloved friend Nicholas Wolstenholme, our neighbour from the town, and was subdued. There could be no danger in a meeting with that most worthy of men! “He was not alone, either- he had that delightful son of his with him- Christopher, that’s the one. He is reaching above my waist already, and at only six years! It is quite obvious he will be just as monumental as his father in good time, just you wait!_

_“But any matter, the boys were quite alarmed at the sight of the both of them, massive as they are, and hid behind my legs as if they were tree-trunks; for Dominic it was play, as he and Christopher are already friends, but methinks Matthew was struck by genuine terror- you know how he is with strangers. I bade him come out and say hello, but as you can guess he was silent as the night. Young master Wolstenholme is becoming quite eloquent these days and greeted the both of them with utmost politeness. Domini c chatted with him idly a while in the street, leaving poor Matthew still cowering away._

_“I shall not lie, it saddened me to see him excluded so by his lack of language. He is certainly an intelligent boy, it cannot be mistaken; there is a depth in those eyes of his which betray a great knowledge, but for some accursed reason he cannot lend it voice. Or rather, could not! For when Christopher turned to him and asked his name, the young creature, to all our amazements, began to speak!..._

_“’I am Matthew.’ The child stuttered, and I was dumbfounded. Unfazed by our bewilderment, he continued. ‘I am with Dominic. I live in the big house.’_

_“Great god, how unsuspecting I had been that morning! I was half sure he would never speak, and I wanted to fall to my knees to thank the Lord almighty for this gift. Nicholas was quite amused by my enthusiasm- you see, I had not explained Matthew’s problem with communication- and at that I joyously swept the child up and he laughed-laughed! What a bonny sight that was! I had not been so happy since Dominic’s birth. We all proposed to go to the Crag and Kite and have a merry meal to celebrate._

_“It seems the three children shall be wondrous friends; it made me so proud to see them all get on so well, chattering and swapping stories and giggling sweetly as babes. It reminded me of how I and Nicholas would talk as younglings when our fathers took us for walks in the thicket. I foresee a great future for the three of them; a life of peace and friendship and great achievements. Matthew chattered all the way home, half of it nonsense, but still such an improvement on what has come before. He has all the charisma of a king’s son, Charlotte! They will be needing supper, madam; I must write to the landlord at present, so I shall leave the chatterbox and his accomplice with you.” And so the master took off quite excitedly, the children tittering at the rapidity of his flight._

_And they will not stop their tittering! The pair of them have been running circles around me; Dominic is so entertained by the liveliness of his companion that he shrieks and cackles as they chase each other round my quarters! It is enough to drive a woman out of her wits. I have half a mind to throw them out, but alas, their eyes are so round and so clever and sweet. They may be little and not perfectly eloquent but they have mastery enough of their features to allow for great persuasion. Oh! I see they have fallen asleep, bless their souls- curled up on the cold floor! How children can sleep in such a chilling place, I do not know, but they seem contented as angels in their slumber._

_My master’s comment on Matthew does confuse me, though. “I am with Dominic”? Is it word for word, I wonder? For it is such a strange saying. There seems to be a connection between the two, and I wonder perhaps if the little one has picked up on it. If they were not so different in appearance, one would think they were true brothers. I have never seen two people so obviously linked in a way so curious._

_Sleep beckons me! I am weary from tending to the young ones. I fear William will be eager to show off the precocious little treasure again tomorrow- I must prepare for an early awakening._


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

 

Day after day passed; days began to turn to weeks, and months; and my father’s two young princes grew. Matthew and I were as close as brothers; no, closer- I still remember how I would feel not quite a complete person if he was not with me. We would constantly be together- whether we went into the town to browse the markets or to visit Christopher, or to be schooled by Mrs Lowe, or to explore the copse which stole itself away into the wild expanse of the moors together, chasing game birds whilst Algernon loped after us through kaleidoscopes of verdant vegetation and wind-torn gardens. Sometimes we would sit and read the same book, stolen from my father’s study, huddled up together in our shared room with our eyes scanning each word in unison.

But do not be fooled; Matthew was by no means ideal and neither was I. I admit now that I was a foolishly proud child- at seven years old I could be quite obnoxious and inconsiderate. Matthew, despite having become as adept at speaking as I, seemed slower to learn in lessons and I had a cruel penchant for teasing him. As I think back now, I realise that though his temper could be horrendously fierce, he would never retaliate, no matter how awful my taunts were. He would absorb each stinging word and clench his fists until the white bones threatened to burst through tightened skin, face reddened with rage, but never come so close as to strike me or to insult me back. At the time his restraint had been a marvellous puzzle to me, but it seems to make much more sense now, regarding certain matters.

But that was Matthew’s flaw. He remained wonderfully enigmatic and unpredictable and utterly indecipherable in his thought processes, but this self-containment meant that he was completely unable to behave appropriately in the company of other people.

_-_

_From William Howard’s diary, 1906-_

_15 th June._

_I must say I am horribly disappointed in my young Matthew this evening. I don’t wish to condemn him; I can’t help but love the child, as I have raised him as my own- but what shame he’s caused me tonight! It is almost as if he cannot control his own actions._

_We had arranged to dine with the Wolstenholmes to celebrate the birthday of their youngest, Tess- she is a bonny child at six years old, delicate and beaming and pink-cheeked. Nicholas says she is a very fast learner despite the sickliness that tends to cling to her fragile form, and one day will make a virtuous young woman, learned and considerate. Despite being only a year younger than Dominic, she is still quite afraid of the boys; they can be rather loud and boisterous, and they are far too absorbed in what each other has to say to listen for one moment to her innocent babblings.  Christopher is a good protector to his sister, too, but now he is eight, and looking to his father for a role-model. He has quite ascended from the bounds of childhood and has become a mature and responsible boy._

_Tess was resplendent in a pearly blue frock, embellished with lace and with embroidered white gloves; she was like a miniature princess in appearance! But upon seeing my two tussle in, digging at each other with their elbows and laughing together riotously I think she became quite intimidated and scuttled back inside without a word. She could only be persuaded back into their company once we had set down to eat._

_Nicholas and his wife hosted a grand feast; their housekeepers had roasted a whole goose, and food upon food was piled high and glistening with glaze and seasoning. The childrens’ eyes sparkled with wonder. Mrs Lowe was quite overfaced by such a titanic meal, being our only resident member of staff, and so such a banquet was rare in our household. Matthew and Dominic were too entranced to serve themselves for a long while, ogling the meat as if they had stumbled upon buried treasure._

_For a good while, the meal proceeded in the normal fashion; we talked politely between chewing and the pair were good and respectful as could be. The trouble began when Nicholas prompted his little daughter to speak to Dominic._

_“Go on, Tess,” He rumbled. “The Howards are our respectable neighbours. Do talk to Dominic, now! I wish you make friends.”_

_She seemed rather hesitant, but honoured and appreciative of her visitor. “Hello, Master Dominic,” And we all had quite a titter at her overt formality, though she was not deterred. “Are you the one I see chasing moorcocks out in the big fields?”_

_Dominic grinned up from his plate. “That is me. Have you seen my dog?”_

_“The brown dog, with the dark patches?”_

_“That’s him. His name’s Algernon.”_

_“Alg-algah..Algy?”_

_Dominic was rather amused by that. “Algy, then.”_

_But then there was a voice cutting in, shattering the gentle conversation and quite alarming the lot of us. “That’s not his name. His name’s Algernon.” The interjector had been Matthew- the boy had been regarding the correspondents sullenly from his spot beside his friend, eyeing Tess with utmost suspicion and loathing. I stared at him pointedly to let him know quite how impertinent he’d been, but he had glared back and shocked me with the arrogance that had only now come on._

_Dominic seemed rather affected by it. “But Matthew, she can’t pronounce-“_

_“Then she should learn! It is not hard.”_

_A steely glow came into my son’s eyes. “You found it hard to learn. I remember, you couldn’t get your head around it for weeks, you used to say al-guh-“_

_“Don’t talk about that!”_

_I opened my mouth to prevent the quarrel which I was becoming increasingly horrified to see unfold in front of respected friends, but Dominic retaliated before I could do aught. “Oh, Matthew, do be quiet! I am talking to Tess, not you! I have all the time in the world to talk to you.”_

_“But I am your friend. She’s just a stupid girl.”_

_Nicholas dropped his knife and fork, his eyes flying to the antagonist in a most incredulous expression. Christopher began to speak. “That’s my sister! Don’t you dare call her stupid!” And how strange it was to see, for Christopher and Matthew were usually so amiable!_

_“Well, she is stupid! And I don’t wish to spend one moment longer with her.” Tess had begun to weep into her mother’s arm. “Oh, and now she is crying! What a terrible shame! Well, it’s our dog, not hers, and she shouldn’t talk to grown-up children if she’s just going to get upset. She just doesn’t understand me and Dominic.”_

_I stood from my seat. “Matthew!” I roared, snatching up the child’s hand and wrapping the other around my son’s waist. The offending boy squirmed and dug rude nails into my hand to little effect, struggling to be free as a wild animal, but I tore the both of them from their seats. “I am sorry to have troubled you, Nicholas. I do hope we can reconcile this. Come, boys, we are leaving this moment!”_

_Dominic was reluctant to go, but Matthew stormed home faster than I could follow. The instant we reached here he ran to the back garden and sat amongst the bushes, sulking to himself in the chilled summer air. He remains there still. Dominic huddled up close to the hearth and became very quiet and sullen, eyes fixed on the yellow flames but his face pale with sadness._

_I do not know what came over the boy tonight. He is usually so charming- what has brought out this wretched, nasty streak in him? One could understand that- he clings to my son like his only lifeline, and he is not willing to share. I think the Wolstenholmes will forgive us this time- I hope they do. I don’t wish to lose such a wondrous friendship on the behalf of one careless argument. It is dreadful to see the boys fight between each other, too- without each other’s favour they are very lost, almost ill to behold. Dominic certainly seems unwell after the events of the meal. One would think he were aggravated by some debilitating disease to see how he lies despondently in the parlour._

_I hear the click of the door; Matthew has returned to me at last. It is possible he has roamed the moorland alone; I am afraid I will have to prevent him from doing so in future. It is a dangerous place- too many friends and family have been injured, killed, even, when lonesome out in the wild. Angered though I am, I couldn’t bear to lose the little wanderer._

_-_

_16 th June._

_I visited the Wolstenholmes this morning and took Matthew with me to apologise. He said the appropriate words but there was such a nasty sneer evident in his drawling voice that I knew he didn’t have the sentiment in him. He was polite to the rest of the family, but he eyed Tess with such ire and hatred that I felt ashamed of him and stole him back to the Hall immediately._

_I was confused as to his motives; what in God’s own name had brought this out in him? I had feared that bringing in a stranger, a boy with such an ambiguous heritage, would allow rash blood into our comparatively mild family. In some ways, though, it has gifted him; he may be young but already his face promises to be handsome- soft cheekbones shine beneath a dark hooded brow, and one might think he was of Celtic origin from his unusual bone structure- I think, if I were a portrait painter, he would be a joy to paint. But he seemed very sombre in his room, still keeping his distance from Dominic for some unknown reason, staring into the blue flowers of the wallpaper as if he desired for them to wilt in his poisonous gaze._

_I asked him what was the matter, and he said it was nothing, but I asked again; this marked change in him could not be without cause._

_He had sighed so wearily that it was almost as if I beheld a man older than myself rather than a young child. “I am not sure, Father”, (as that is what he has taken to calling me, despite knowing we are of no relation- it is endearing, is it not?) “I am just sad. I don’t know why.”_

_“Are you sorry for shouting at Tess?”_

_He glanced at me with eyes ablaze with blue fire. “No.”_

_“Why not? Do you know that you’ve done wrong?”_

_“I have not-“A pause, and then he curled his legs close to his chest, burying his white face between his legs. “I didn’t feel like I was doing wrong. I thought- I could have been sure I was being good, Father.”_

_“And why was that, Matthew? Why did you do it?”_

_“I didn’t want her to talk to Dominic.”_

_“Why not, Matthew?”_

_“I wanted him to talk to me, instead.” And that white face fell into blackness as he curled further in on himself and hid his shimmering eyes from me completely._

_Oh, God, I should have seen this coming! That’s the risk of letting two kindred spirits become too friendly; love in one friendship is never quite equal, and when such affection is so extreme, the pain it can cause to be the one more loving than loved is too horrid to bear. Poor lad! I decided to use a different approach to remedy this situation._

_“What is you first memory, Matthew?”_

_He looked up from his pool of darkness. “Pardon?”_

_“What is the first thing you remember?”_

_His eyebrows creased with though; and then a smile cracked slowly onto porcelain cheeks.   “I don’t remember anything before this house,” He grinned, staring up at the Tudor timbers which ribbed the ceiling of his beloved home. “But-I do remember…I think it was the first night- yes, I’m sure it was…I was lying in this bed, and my feet were still very cold…but then Dominic came in, and he saw me sleeping, and he sang to me.”_

_I smiled. It was rare for Dominic to sing. “What did he sing to you?”_

_“An old song, I think. I didn’t understand the words very much then. But it was something like…oh, what were the words? Something…pearly snow on the ground…wind was bitter and cold…poor little beggar boy out in the snow came knocking at the Lady’s door…she opened up the window so wide, and looked upon the child…and this is the story he told,” He sang, in a voice as soft as eiderdown. “I don’t quite remember the rest.”_

_My face froze with grief; that was a song Dominic had learnt from his mother. To hear their sorrowful lyrics pierce the air again was like a knife twisting in my chest. I bade him farewell and retired to my studies._

_Year after year has passed, and still I cannot forget her! I thought I had lost her forever, only to see her in the gleaming world which awaits me now, but still her ghost hides in the walls of this house; I hear her voice in the words of others, her possessions still mock me from the corners of the room, I see her eyes stare back at me from my own son’s face! It fills me with a grieving horror. It is true, then; once one has lost one’s own soul to death’s icy grip, you succumb to a breathless terror; one which lurks constantly when you are alone, one which seizes you when you are not prepared to face its gory mask. It’s true- Eleanor was my soul. She was my life! And now she is gone I am surrounded by the ruins of life she has left behind._

_But that is quite enough of my laments. I do hope that this jealous hatred Matthew has developed will subside; one day, perhaps, he will be able to find friends that satisfy him like Dominic has- that is what I have advised him to do. It will be difficult, though; I think it takes a special kind of soul to appease his wishes! I think he will only choose the best._


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

William Howard’s diary, 1911-

_5 th August._

_Wonderful news! Matthew has come to me today announcing at last that he is in partnership, so to speak, with a young girl. Her name is Ursula, and she lives a little while into Bentham, attending the school there along with the boys. I knew that schooling them publically would be a grand idea; the two of them have benefitted well for the year or so that they have attended, and made a wealth of new friendships- though none, I am somewhat pleased to see, have surpassed that they share with Christopher._

_Matthew tells me how wondrous she is; he calls her the most beautiful woman he has ever seen! Though I wouldn’t quite call her a woman yet, as she is only twelve- but he is completely enamoured with her. They met on their first day of school and it seems he has been chasing her ever since. Only recently did she begin to respond to his affectionate behaviour- the rumours about Matthew’s adoption are numerous, and it seems some of the faerie-folk tales have gotten quite out of hand; some of the children still believe that if they dare cross his path, he will curse them, and it’s not far from the truth! Matthew retains a fiery temper, wicked as the winds in the moors he hailed from, and to anger him is to bring a thunderstorm upon one’s own head._

_He brought Ursula to the house yesterday, only announcing their relationship to me this morning, and I have nothing but happiness for the boy. He has done very well to make new friends- and what a spectacle she is! Her hair is very dark and curled perfectly in little ringlets, and her eyes are a striking, catlike green. I am extremely proud of him- I know it is unlikely the partnership will last forever, but I know that when he is full-grown he will one day make an excellent husband. The traits that he bears ensure it- mentally strong, passionate, and infinitely loyal._

_Dominic, at the moment, seems content without a partner. To live with his best friend is enough for him, I think.  I’m sure that in time, someone will arrive to match my son as well as Matthew now matches the dainty Ursula._

_-_

My father’s perception of their relationship was unfortunately seen through rose-tinted spectacles.

Matthew had not, in any way, been selective in choosing Ursula. She was the first girl he had set eyes on when we began school, and the look on his face is one I remember well- not one of enchantment and wonder, but one of plain satisfaction. He had been instructed by my father to find company besides myself- and he had found the most convenient person to fill the hole.

I was not “content”; I was beside myself with jealousy. I was jealous of both of them- Matthew, for being lucky enough to find a young girl to love him, and Ursula, simply for the fact that she had his undivided attention. But of course, I would never start an argument with either of them; for that would be weakness, to show how I felt! No, I idolised my father's stalwart demeanour, and sought to contain whatever emotions waged war on each other within me at all costs. Matthew could never know the envying I endured, for I would never hear the last of it. He would never stop teasing me for my hypocrisy and reminding me of how tormented he had been when I was happy with others.

Briefly, the two of us drifted apart, but still I craved his company; I felt deeply wronged, for I knew his relationship was founded on convenience and not true love.

-

Dominic Howard’s diary, 1911-

 

_September 12 th-_

_Father is quite angry with us today. He doesn’t like it when we roam the moors together, me and Matt; he says it’s dangerous and that Matt might lose his life the same way his late namesake did! But I don’t think Matt would be so clumsy. He knows the moors better than anyone; I’ve never seen him take a single false step, never seen him fall or even so much as tremble in a step on any of our treks. He’s like a mountain goat, I think; this is his home more than the house will ever be. He’s made of the wild and the wind and the moorland. It’s just part of him. His eyes are blue like flash of a jay’s sapphire wings, and his hands are always freezing cold like a frigid morning with icy dew sparkling on the tors._

_We set off this morning, and a thick fog had descended and was looming over the grass, lurching towards the house like ghostly breath, and the moisture was clinging to my hair as we charged through it, exploring the white mass as if we were the first to traverse the landscape it concealed. Father says the fog is the death of many men, but I like it. I wonder if to walk through the sky would be like walking in the fog…_

_I could not always see Matthew, for the fog was dense and widespread and sometimes all I could see were the black outlines of his feet splashing through the marshes. I was guided by his laughter, a little wild cackle like a birdsong, and I followed him up the hillside as close as I could. I slipped on the dew, and he came back for me, gave me balance as I struggled to get to my feet. I like that about Matt. He’s a good fell walker, but he’ll never leave you behind, never. Or at least, he never leaves me._

_We began the steep ascent to the rocky, bone-white plateau of Ingleborough, fingers digging into the chilled mud to haul ourselves up the more treacherous slopes. At the top, I couldn’t help but be amazed again by the endless stretches of scarred limestone, emerging like dragon’s scales from the moss, just a black-branched tree clutching to the surface with desperate, simpering roots. We traversed Norber’s Rocks- that place is like a playground for us- we climbed and leapt from the erratic boulders, and used them as our vantage point as we looked down over the mountain’s rocky brow. Below us was the sea of static clouds, pearly white beneath the morning sun, and we laughed. Whenever we climb the Rocks we feel like kings; there can’t be a taller place in the world! I can’t imagine any human climbing higher. Everyone is below us when we stand astride their stony backs. Matt says he thinks giants moved the stones here; my father says it was a river of ice. I don’t know which to believe! They both seem rather improbable._

_We can’t go north of Norber; it’s too dangerous, father said, even for well-travelled mountaineers like us. It’s a place called the Allotment (though I don’t know why; it’s as beautifully barren as the rest of the moor) and apparently it’s full of pernicious potholes. One false step, father says, and we’ll plunge into a bottomless pit, never to be seen again. Matt always says he wants to try and traverse it one day- I don’t agree with him. It’s too perilous! I’m sure the scenery beyond there would be quite breath-taking- -apparently you can see Wild Boar Fell from there- but it can’t be worth such a dangerous journey. I get scared sometimes Matt will try and go there alone- he’s always been a brave fool, defying my father and risking his life in the name of adventure. We’re forbidden to go in any of the caves too, in case they fall in on us- but Matt’s been there. He took me in a few steps, but I thought better of it. He claims to have seen blue diamonds down in White Scar; I doubt it, but sometimes I secretly wish I could have gone there with him. I do hate the way he teases me for my cowardice._

_The stone pillar on Park Fell was just ahead of us when we came to the black-patched dip in the gradient the locals call Happy Valley; though it be just a miniature valley, spanning a few hundred yards across, it seems gleeful amongst the ruggedness of the surroundings. The heather is thicker and greener there, with bonny pink flowers bouncing in the breeze and great swaths of thick, moist peat, bouncy and faintly warm underfoot. It’s our favourite place on the moor; we come here after our morning’s surveillance to sit together and talk of our week’s experiences. Father would prefer us to be at church with him on a Sunday morning, but Matt was never christened, and feels not at home in the chapel on the grey hillside. Besides, is this not our church, where we are now? We worship the land, not God. We care not for him. We care only for each other._

_As we sat upon the rocks, the lilac scent of the undergrowth embracing us fondly and the wind tearing away at strands of hair and fluttering lapels, I remembered again how I miss him when he’s with Ursula. I do try not to cause any disagreements, but how can I bear it? He’s my best friend, my companion- I know him better than she ever will, even if they were to marry and live together till death parted them at last. He’s mine- my possession, in a way, he came to me from the moors, and not to anyone else. I have a right to spend the most time with him, do I not?_

_“Matthew,” I said. “We’ve not been out here together for a long time, why not?”_

_“I’m busy,” He murmured, sniffing a sprig of mint idly. His little white lips brushed the frosted leaves in such a soft, pretty way that I almost felt sad, jealous, that Ursula knew how they felt. It was a strange thought, in a manner pleasant, but so uncanny as I have never known. “Ursula always wants to see me after school. And I always end up speaking to her at church.”_

_Church! Inwardly I damned the place, not caring for the consequences. In that moment I felt like God was something totally removed from my world, irrelevant to what I felt. How horrid it was that the two met in a place of God, when to me their union was distasteful and anything but holy. He’s a fool, Matthew, pretty- but a fool. He’s an idiot to love the first girl he sees._

_“But don’t you think it’s more important to spend time with me?”_

_He turned indignantly. “And why would that be?”_

_“I’m your brother. Your more-than-brother. You said it yourself!”_

_“Oh, and what makes you so proud to think you’re more worthy of my attention than she is? She’s at least as much right to me as you.”_

_“But I’ve know you longer!”_

_“So?” And I was so enraged by this, so vilely envious that I unthinkingly tore a clump of moor-grass, thick with black soil, and hurled it at him, disrupting his moment of peace. He stumbled off the rock, heels slipping back into the moist ground, head slamming against the floor alarmingly with a loud smack. For a moment he lay horribly still, and just as I was about to cry out in fear he leapt up again and tackled me with more force than I expected from his slim build, pushing my face into the soft golden grasses with a malicious laugh._

_I shoved him off and rolled about, onto my hands and feet and seized another handful of peat, whirling to face my attacker and smearing the dark soil across his wan skin, watching as my fingers stained the canvas of his cheeks sluggishly. He was not angry- he smiled even as I did it, white teeth grinning back at me and the grin only widening as he smugly dropped a pile of peat from an unseen hand to my left, scattering the particles over my mouth and nose and causing me to cough and splutter loudly. He ran off as I struggled, seeking to escape over the rocks, but once I had regained composure I followed him over. He was running slowly on purpose, knowing I would catch up with him, wanting to be caught._

_I eventually slammed into him, felling him into a particularly deep peat ditch face-first. He spun in the ground to take a firm hold of my shoulders, pulling me down into the hole with him, and we began to attack each other with the soil furiously, my sight almost lost in a whirlwind of peat and his hands slapping hard against my face and our laughter, rising up into the heavy air like birds soaring into the heavens together._

_He pinned me down eventually, my hair caked in peat, clothes and skin zig-zagged with smears of the stuff. All around me was the scent of water and the earth, and sat on my stomach, hands heavy on my shoulders, was Matt; eyes gleaming, a triumphant smile shining on his face, hair stuck up in absurd cowlicks where I’d run my muddy fingers through. There was a movement in my stomach, and I felt quite euphoric at once; this was my Matt, here with me, not her, happy and wild and proud. This was how I liked him._

_The noise around us seemed to stop, our laughter dying away into the distant valleys, and all I heard was the quiet wind and the weight of each of his panting breaths. His smile vanished, and he looked down upon me with a puzzling solemnity, as if he wasn’t quite sure where his heart lay, like he’d forgotten who he was and what he was doing. He stood on the edge of a decision, I’m sure, and one small push from me would cast him over the precipice._

_“Matthew, I don’t want you to spend time with Ursula anymore.”_

_He blinked dumbly in reply, white lips quivering. And then he nodded slowly. He looked right into my eyes- I love his eyes. There’s nothing in this world quite like them- I swear, they have stars glittering in their irises- and he stared directly into mine. I could feel the heat of his closeness against my skin, even against the wet, cold ground seeping into my clothes from beneath. He moved closer and closer until our noses were touching, poking comfortably against each other, and he moved his hands up from my shoulders slowly to press down my shivering wrists instead._

_I felt the most at peace I have ever felt; it was as if my soul were subdued for the first time, not seeking to find some great destiny, but completely satisfied by its current circumstances. When we breathed, the breath was shared between us, we were that close. Our eyes were fixed on each other till I felt I was not Dominic anymore, and that there was no difference between me and him anymore; I felt as if we were one being, one creature, sensing and feeling the world all as one. I fancied our heartbeats were one too, every pattern of our lives in complete symmetry, fitting into one another perfectly. His lips touched mine, and I felt blessed; it was not a kiss, simply a delicate, fleeting contact, but I treasured it all the same. In that moment I was simply happy to have been chosen, that I was the one to experience this moment with him, and I was more to him than anyone else in the world._

_We descended the cliff-face after lying together in tranquil slumber, and we spotted a pair of lapwings looping and wheeling around each other in the sky; I heard their squealing call, saw their black-edged feathers ripple in the coarse breeze, and Matt held my hand to help me down the jagged slope. When we saw father, he scrutinised us in quiet anger; He tugged us both inside and lectured us on our attendance to church, but Matt shouted and said he didn’t see the point and he’d rather walk instead, but Father would hear none of it. He was sent to bed early, and Father detained me in the parlour and told me to do my school-work for the rest of the evening._

_Just now, though, I thought I heard a racket in Mrs Lowe’s quarters; I snuck down from the parlour, and in the musky dimness I saw two figures through the slit of the kitchen door. She and my father were arguing, voices low to hide their quarrel, and I had to listen close to make any of it out, but this is what I can recall:_

_“I must say, Mister Howard, I would have thought you’d be old and wise enough to know the difference between friendship and infatuation! You’re suffering a delusion, William. This has all been fabricated by your mind somehow.”_

_“How can I deny it, Madam, when I saw it with my own eyes? There’s something more than is appropriate between them, it’s undeniable; oh God, this is all my own fault! I should have known- I should have known from the start it would only make things worse- I suppose I was trying to reclaim Eleanor, in some foolish way- but I should have known-!”_

_“Now, stop that- Sir-it’s an immoderate reaction! Your suspicions are excessive- they don’t have it in them, Sir. Look at them- you’ve raised them well, haven’t you? What’s made you think they’d do such things? They’re good boys. You are jumping to conclusions over the tiniest details- now stop it, Sir, you’ll work yourself into a fever.”_

_“Do you really think it’s my imagination, Charlotte? I thought my wits were more intact than that.”_

_“You’ve always been sturdy of mind, Sir, but you know well you’ve suffered since you lost her.”_

_“You’re-you’re probably right. Oh, how did I get it into my head to think such rotten things? Matthew loves Ursula, anyway; he told me this morning. He tells me every morning! My mind’s wandered to strange places, Charlotte, to think- to think that he and Dominic….I can’t bring myself to say it, Charlotte. I think I must rest. I need to put this madness out of my mind.”_

_With that my father slunk away into the shadows, and I was left to gather the fragments of their conversation into some recognisable form. What I’ve heard frightens me- I mean, did he mean to say that I loved Matthew? Like he was supposed to love Ursula?_

_I treasure him; I feel closeness with him not like I do with anyone else in the world. He is everything in my world, a part of everything I do, a part of me, but- no! I don’t love him. That’s a ridiculous thought. He means the world to me, but it’s not love, it can’t be. That is impossible. Love and whatever it is I feel for him are easy to mistake for each other, but entirely separate._

_I must go to bed now; I think my father suspects my spying. I wanted to share Matt’s bed tonight for the warmth, but overhearing the argument has strangely put me off; I’ll endure the cold alone for now. I must remember to sketch the lapwings in my bird-book._

 


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

_November 9 th\- _

_Matthew and I walked home from school together today. He seemed bizarrely quiet, as if he were sad, but I could see the light of a smile in his shining eyes. I knew something had happened, or was happening; I can read him like a book. It wasn’t until we got home that I found out his secret’s nature, though- he went up very solemnly to my father, a fake frown on his face, and admitted to him that he and Ursula were not seeing each other anymore._

_I shouldn’t be happy, and neither should he, I know-it’s cruel on Ursula’s behalf, because she clearly adored him- but I take joy in the knowledge that he won’t be distracted from me by her advances any longer. I’m glad for him, too. Glad that he’s finally rid of someone he knew he didn’t love._

_Father obviously fell for his little act easily, though, and thought his boy would be morose and in mourning for the love he’d lost. He took the pair of us out to the farm on the hill, not saying a word about his intentions, until he began to speak to the bristling farmer about purchasing some of the livestock. Matthew was set alight by excitement, and so was I- we looked at each other in anticipation and awe, and he grabbed my arm, shaking it vigorously. We ran around to the sheltered stables and the light ochre mud to see where the horses nodded their great long snouts over the barn doors. A grey-dappled creature brayed loud in my face, the grassy scent blowing the hair from my face. That’s the one I’ve decided to keep- I’ll call him Quincey, I think._

_Matthew, however, seemed rather amused by a pale, cream-coloured animal with a cascading white mane and blackened nose at the far end of the yard, and chose him for his steed. I don’t know yet what he intends to call it. He seemed strangely averse to giving it a name, in case it “doesn’t like it”, which I told him was silly, as we chose his name for him and he has had no objections as of yet. He retorted by saying we were just lucky to have chosen a favourable name. Father’s said he can hire someone to teach us to ride soon enough. At this rate, he says, we’ll be well and able enough to ride across the foothills by Christmas!_

_The horses are tied up in the barns now. I saw Algy sleeping there in the hay, looking very sorry for himself. He’s an ancient old mutt now; his eyes are grey and weary, and all he does is groan and sleep. I do love him still, though, even if he isn’t as much fun as he used to be. Outside of Father’s knowledge I carried him from the barn to my room and let him sleep at the foot of my bed. Me and Matthew were talking for what felt like hours and hours- of all the things we’ll do now he has more time, and where we’ll take our horses in the Dales when we’re good enough. But Mrs Lowe got angry and shouted at us to be quiet, and for fear she’d find the dog in here I quietened down. I will try to sleep now- that is, if the voices I hear through the wall will silence…!_

_Twelve o’clock- I have just heard another argument between Father and the housekeeper concerning mine and Matthew’s relationship. From what I can tell, he seems convinced that I had some doing in the end of his fling with Ursula- I didn’t! He did it all of his own accord. I didn’t even know! Then again…I suppose…I was the one who told him not to see her…perhaps he told Father-the rat! I’m frightened Quincey will be taken from me! Perhaps it would serve me well to distance him from me somehow, but I don’t know how…I do hate being away from him. And I have no inclination to make the same mistake he did, and choose a girl just for the sake of it. I’ll have to choose a girl, though, to throw Father off the scent. Well, I won’t be so hasty as him! I’ll wait until someone really does catch my eye. Perhaps if I find myself things to occupy me besides Matt, Father’s suspicions will be dispelled._

_-_

I tried to be subtle enough in my efforts to sway my father’s beliefs, but by the springtime I had already found someone to fill my needs. Her name was Irene, and she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen- golden hair the colour of cornfields, snow-fair skin and radiant light brown eyes. She was perfect. And yet-

Perfection was somehow not what I desired.  There was something so unignorably wrong about her in that there was _nothing_ wrong with her. She was intelligent and sweet and everything the perfect vision of a young girl could be, but there was a feeling in my skull that told me I could not love someone so ineffably lovely. I wanted the roughness and the callousness I felt familiarity with in Matthew’s company. But I could not be around him. Too many suspicions would be roused. I remained with Irene, visiting her frequently and telling her I loved her as much as possible to cover up my dreadful dissatisfaction. I felt awful for leaving my companion to amuse himself, but I told myself repeatedly that this would, in the end, be good for both of us.

-

 

 

Dominic Howard’s diary, 1912-

_May 8 th\- _

_I finally convinced Irene to come and explore the moors with me today. She’s always been very reluctant- she’s a bit of an indoors person, really- and complained whenever I asked her that it was too cold, and too windy, and she didn’t want to tear her dress on the rocks, but when I pointed out how bright and summery the weather was today she eventually relented. When we passed by the house, I did ask Matt if he wanted to join us, but he was in one of his strange moods and didn’t seem very happy to see either of us. That was a shame. He’s so much better at navigating than I am! If he’d only come with us, we might have been able to go a little further from home and have a proper adventure, but I thought we’d stick to Ingleborough today as I know that place like the back of my hand._

_We took Quincey up about one o’ clock, which she liked- being from further into town, she’s never had the need to ride a horse. There was trouble on the foothills when a great sweeping wind blew her little hat bouncing across the grasses and vanishing somewhere in the wilderness. At that point, she almost turned back, but I grabbed her wrist and assured her we’d find it eventually. We went up to Norber’s Rocks, or at least I did- her shoes weren’t suited for climbing them- and I picked out some of the birds I knew from the silhouettes sailing across the immaculate blue sky- skylarks, ravens, even a lonesome buzzard circling ominously over the summit- and I taught her their calls. She seemed to like talking about the birds, and she told me all about her uncle’s parrot which he himself had captured on a trip to the Caribbean. It’s an unlikely story, but it made her smile enough. Personally, I’ve never cared for exotic birds. I think the ones here on the Dales are far more elegant._

_We went to search for her hat on the far side of the mountain, but eventually I think the both of us quite forgot what we were looking for and got preoccupied with picking flowers. Irene made a daisy chain and hung it around her neck. It looked very pretty with the apricot-yellow dress she was wearing. She loves daisies- she’s always talking about the large ones her mother buys from the florist in Bentham. I told her my favourite flower was the bogbean, but she said she’d never heard of them. I must remember to pick some and press them for her. They would make a lovely present._

_It was six in the afternoon when the sun was beginning to melt into the horizon, and we realised quite how long we’d been wandering. It hadn’t been quite so much fun as it would if Matt was there, but I suppose he’s rougher than a girl. He likes playfights and chases and that sort of thing. Irene is quite like a daisy, I suppose- pretty enough, but delicate. Matt’s more like a bogbean- he’s hardy enough to live through anything and still push through! We descended the slopes, our trawl for the hat unfortunately unsuccessful, and found Irene’s father waiting for us back at Saphney. He and Father were talking in the parlour about the pair of us, and Matthew- he was sat in the corner, reading that book about detectives he’s been so buried this past month. He didn’t say hello when I greeted him. It does annoy me when he’s antisocial like that. What is the strange aversion he has to my other friends?_

_Irene’s father promised he’d buy her a new hat at the next opportunity, and took her back away with him. I’ve been to their house before- it’s bigger than ours, and right in the centre of town- it’s all very polished and quaint, with beautiful old paintings hung up the dining room and servant after servant after servant…it’s not at all like this dingy, dusty little place. Whenever she’s here, she must feel quite claustrophobic._

_I asked Matthew again if he wanted to take the horses out for a ride, but he kept ignoring me. Upon my asking what was wrong, he whipped round to face me with a mask of such loathing and rage that I physically withdrew and fled the room! He seems particularly irritable today. Maybe he is unwell- there has been a sort of fever being spread around the village. Matthew has always been the type to suffer in silence- he won’t admit his weakness, even if he is ill. He’s as stubborn as a mule! Until I met him, I never knew it was possible to both deeply love and despise a person all at once. He’s my brother, I can’t hate him- but everything about his personality makes him perfectly horrible. He is more of a burden than a blessing at times._

_Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we’d never taken him into the household. But then I berate myself for having such a thought- even though he is a parasite to me, I strangely cannot imagine life without him. It would be about as ridiculous as living without a heart. Would I be a different sort of person without him, perhaps? I cannot help but think that he has been a large- if not the largest- factor in determining who I am today._

_Father seems pleased that I’ve found Irene. I think he’s just glad I’m not inseparable from Matt anymore, because that brought him such unease- I don’t know what those beliefs are founded on, though. But I have high hopes for me and Irene’s future together. We might have our differences, but our relationship is strong. There’s nothing she or I could do to shatter what we share now._


	6. Chapter 6

**VI**

This year was to be an uneasy time for the four of us.  Matthew worsened in his antagonism with every passing day. He even began to refuse to be in the house with Irene at the same time. I tried my hardest to bring them together, but it was all quite useless- Irene began to fear and hate him, objecting to his presence if I tried to include him. Despite this, my relationship with her was going well. I had almost forgotten the strange longing for Matthew’s presence that had irked me when I had first started seeing Irene.

The problem with me and Irene was something external. Matthew despised her, and I unfortunately failed to notice how manipulative and persuasive he was starting to become. All the reading he’d been doing was building a new, deadly wisdom within him that I would soon fall prey to.

-

Dominic Howard’s diary, 1912-

_June 20 th-_

_It’s over with Irene! It’s all over, and I have only one person to blame- Matthew is a rat! He’s deceitful and nasty and I’m sorry to ever have trusted him! I knew he had his moods, but I would never have expected malice of this degree from him. He’s detained with Mrs Lowe, and I am confined here in my room. I’m glad we’re separated; he wouldn’t live five minutes if I could get my hands on him now._

_I was expecting Irene to visit at lunchtime, and whilst I was getting ready to greet her I happened to catch sight of her waiting beneath the willow tree in the front garden, shining in a baby blue frock, doelike eyes batting gently and meeting mine fleetingly with a soft grin. Her hair was like a goddess’ mane in the bright breeze, another cheery daisy chain around her neck- oh, how dazzling she was with that sun-beam smile on her face! And how soon after that it was spoilt with tears- I saw him before she did, thundering towards her across the lawn like a bullet to its target’s chest. I didn’t see Matthew’s face- his back was to me, but I still felt my stomach drop in horror at the thought of what devilish thing he could be plotting, what shadowy motive was guiding him towards the girl he despised. Her gaze was torn from me and I saw her lips draw back in distaste to see him._

_I heard nothing of their conversation, yet I can guess what duplicitous lies he poured in her ear! He motioned for her to sit on a stone beside the trunk, and I saw her eyes grow large and frightened. For an awful, silent few minutes I watched in alarm from the window, only able to see her face over his shoulder as he spoke. It grew more and more sobered as it went on, and once or twice she looked back to me, her lip beginning to quiver and her cheeks grow pale and deathly; that fair skin was starting to glisten with fresh tears and the corners of her angelic eyes tinging a searing red. I pressed my face to the glass and rapped my fist hard- the two of them faced me, and I saw the ferocious gleam of blue eyes glitter like a shard of crystal before my hot breath clouded my vision. Desperately, I wiped the mist away, but he was gone, and all that remained for me to see was the heart-wrenching vision of poor Irene, head in her hands, weeping openly beneath the willow tree._

_I dashed downstairs to see if there was any mending I could do, catching a glimpse of Matthew through the bannisters, sitting smugly in the parlour with a book on his knee, observing me condescendingly and without a single drop of effort to hide his malignant intentions. I made a note of where he was so I could confront him later, and darted out to see Irene on the lawn. She had not moved from where I had spotted her before. She was more like a statue than a real girl; as if all her life, all her breath had been stolen, and she was nothing but a lump of stone now._

_“Irene?” I called, hoping to gain her attention, but she did not respond. “Irene, my love-“_

_“Do_ not _call me that.” The voice had cut me off with a croaking rumble, muttered from beneath her hands. I could hear her anguish in its groaning timbre._

_“Why not, Irene? What’s wrong?” I moved a few steps closer, and she revealed her face, still not looking up at me. Instead she chose to divert her attention to the twisted roots of the willow tree, a shadow across her eyes and cheeks that made her suddenly appear quite ghastly. It was like I saw a different face on her now, not the fairylike creature I favoured, but a soulless, lifeless crone. It was peculiar. I’ve never thought someone so beautiful could so quickly turn into something, someone else._

_“I am not your love, am I, Dominic?”_

_“Of course you are! Who else would be?”_

_Her eyes flamed with a sudden, silent rage and her lips trembled again, opening with a haggard wail. “Violet?” She said, a fearsome, jagged edge in her words. “Or so Matthew tells me. No wonder he hates to be around us so much! He must be ashamed of his brother to know he deceives and betrays the girl he supposedly loves!”_

_I stumbled backwards. Matthew had told her I was unfaithful? I could barely believe it. I would never- I could never betray her! I barely spoke to Violet- the whole thing was utterly preposterous, and I was hurt to even think she would believe what was to me an absurd lie. “You don’t believe him, do you?” I laughed quite dryly. “Irene, believe me, it’s not true! He’s the liar here- not me!”_

_“Don’t lie to me again!” She snarled, standing now with a challenging step towards me. “I saw you watching us- I knew, I knew you were afraid he would tell me the truth, there was no mistaking it! And even if it weren’t true, I’m afraid, Dominic, I really am- I’m afraid of what dreadful thing you might have done to make him want to hurt you so much!”_

_“Irene, I promise you—don’t go, Irene!” I began to scream for her, but she was running from the house, disappearing down the lane and away towards the village. I shuddered as my gaze swept over Ingleton, wondering where on earth she was now- wondering if she would ever return, and finding the only realistic answer was that she never would._

_My hands shook with acrimony. With a slow turn I faced the house, where I knew the orchestrator of my ruin sat, quite disgustingly contented with his hateful plot. I thundered across the grass to face him, and to my vengeful delight he wandered out to greet me with a falsely amicable smile. When he was a few feet from me I seized his shoulder and watched those blue eyes bulge with fear, tripping him with my foot and watching his body jolt as his back hit the floor._

_“Matthew! You- you devil! What have you done?!”_

_He grimaced, winded by the fall, but still cruelly smiling through his pain. “I haven’t the_ faintest _idea, Dominic.” He coughed twice, sounding suspiciously like laughter, and began to rise from the floor again. Enraged by his impertinence, I kicked his collarbone and knocked him back._

_“Oh, you do, you little weasel! You’ve been telling nasty little lies! Do you know how poor Irene’s been crying to me? She says that I’m a villain and I’ve wronged her, and it’s all your fault, you malicious brute!”_

_“Oh,_ that _! I simply told her what I believed. I was convinced that you were in love with Violet. I didn’t want the poor girl to be deceived.” He panted, lies spewing from his lips between breaths._

_“Don’t you dare lie to me, too! You did it to deliberately upset her! You’ve always hated her, for God knows what reason-!”_

_“But you do like Violet, don’t you?”_

_“What?” I stared down at him, unsure of what he meant. I shook my head. “ Well- I suppose she is nice looking enough, but-“_

_“And you told me yourself that you didn’t love Irene.”_

_I swallowed. That was indeed true. But it had only been a passing comment, long ago. The whole statement was totally irrelevant! “I-don’t be childish, Matthew. We’re too young to talk of love. I barely know her.”_

_“Then why do you tell her that you do love her?” He crawled like an insect from the grass. “It’s a sin to lie, Dominic. I may not frequent the church, but ah, I remember that sermon well enough!”_

_I sighed and turned away from him. “Oh, come now, Matthew. Everyone knows that one must first build familiarity with someone, and love comes afterwards. It grows in strength through the years. And any hope I had of growing to love her is dashed because of you! I hope you’re happy with yourself!”_

_“Do you really think that’s the nature of love?” He tilted his head with a bizarre sadness that was strange compared to all of his slimy pride before. “ And here I was thinking you were wiser than me. I don’t think love works that way.”_

_“Well, how else can love work?”_

_“I believe love can exist before familiarity. And I certainly don’t believe in lying.”_

_Devil! What made him think he could call me a liar when he knew the havoc he’d just wreaked?! I threw myself towards him, grabbing him and spitting accusations in his face. “What, that tripe about love at first sight? Don’t talk nonsense! And don’t be a hypocrite, Matt. You lied deliberately to separate her from me, because you’re so horribly jealous of my closeness to her. You just want me to follow you around like a lovesick dog. Well, I have a life outside of you, whether you like it or not!”_

_He shoved my chest, causing me to stagger backwards, at which point I dug my fingers into his hair and clutched a few strands with a vicious tug. My father appeared in the doorway and gave an appalled gasp at the sight of us, hurtling towards the struggling pair with a bellowing cry._

_“Boys, boys! Peace! What on earth is the matter with you?”_

_“Matthew’s upset Irene to spite me!”_

_“Dominic is deceiving her! He doesn’t really love her!”_

_He grabbed both our collars, silencing us with a sharp pull. He tore us apart like scrapping animals. “Oh, be quiet, the both of you! To bed, this instant!”_

_And that’s where I am now, and where I have been serving my time for hours. I’m infuriated- I can’t believe my father is punishing me for Matthew’s scheming! I’ve lost poor Irene, and she believes I’ve done her wrong, all because Matthew wanted a little fun! Is that really what he does to amuse himself? He’s sicker, more twisted than I ever thought. Well, let him suffer his punishment too, then. I do hope no girl ever falls in love with him now. She’ll regret it as long as she lives._

_Oh, here is Father to speak to me- I shall continue later._

_He is gone now. We had a very strange conversation that has left me feeling rather pensive. I feel I must transcribe what I can remember of it- I was lying on my bed when I heard his footsteps from the staircase, but I wasn’t really in the mood for talking, so I turned my face away to the wall._

_“Dominic? Are you still awake, my boy?” My father’s voice is hard to ignore. It has a deep, warbling resonance which makes one feel subdued and respectful. It had a wonderful calming effect on my troubled mind._

_“I’m not a boy, I’m a man now.”_

_“Not yet!” He laughed. “You’ve a few years to go before you can make that claim, I’m afraid. I’ve come to speak to you about something.”_

_He smiled thoughtfully, watching me from across the room. I could guess what he was here for. “I don’t want to talk about Matthew.” I grumbled. “I could almost say I hate him right now.”_

_“Oh, Dominic, don’t say such terrible things! You two are made for each other.” He wandered over and sat beside me on the bed. “I highly doubt anything he could do could make you hate each other.”_

_“I suppose.” Poor Father must think I’m still an innocent child, incapable of hating my fellow man!  “But-oh, the stupid things he was saying about love today, Father! He was acting like a child. He believes in love at first sight- and once he told me you could love someone before even meeting them! What in the world does it mean, Father? What’s made him think these things? It’s not true, is it?”_

_My father cleared his throat, and a cloudy, melancholy dullness glowed softly in his eyes. “As much as it pains me to speak of your mother, I believe that some of what Matthew is saying rings true with how I felt for her.” I gasped, insulted and alarmed by his unexpected opposition, but before I could object, he continued- “ I was already well past adulthood when I met her, yet- all my life I had dreamed of a woman with her tenderness and beauty, and her wondrous, generous soul. One could say I loved the idea of someone like her, for years and years of my life, before I met her. And then when I saw her for the first time, I saw the rich dark depths of her eyes and heard her lovely voice- I loved her, and I knew I’d loved her all my life, and always would! I knew I would never love anyone else. And still, even after she has left us- I love her. I cannot escape the memory of her.” He shut his eyes and was very quiet for a moment, as if he could feel my mother’s presence somewhere in the dark and wished to savour it for a little longer. Then, he turned to me with a concerned curiosity. “Is that how you love Irene, Dominic? Because I know that you are young, but love like that can strike at any moment in life- is that how you feel about her?”_

_I swallowed. I had to admit, my father’s soulful love for my mother quite outshone whatever affection I had for Irene. “No, but-I don’t love her. Not yet.”_

_“Not yet?” He frowned and looked down, away from me. ”Then- I do hate to tell you this, Dominic- but I doubt you ever will!”_

_I began to panic. “But-but who, then, Father? Who do I love? I don’t understand the things you speak of- does this mean I’ll never love anyone?!”_

_“No, God forbid, Dominic, no! Of course there will be someone. You may not have even met them yet. But is there anyone, real or imaginary, that you constantly crave the presence of? Whose face you see in dreams, and who you think of when your mind is at rest? Anyone-how can I put it- anyone who you feel your soul is at one with?”_

_We stared at each other for a horrible, hanging moment. “My soul…?” There was no girl I knew who I could apply that philosophy to. There was only one name that sprang to mind._

_“I simply wish to educate you on my personal experiences of love, son. I won’t press you for an answer. I’m sure that you will find love in your own way when the time comes. Sleep well, now.” And without pressuring me any longer, he took his leave, and I sat here in the darkness with that single name echoing over and over in my brain._

_It is a fearful thing indeed. I want so much to reject everything Father has told me, but I can’t help but believe it still. It cannot be true, can it? For if this is love…it does nothing but make me afraid. I think I must sleep, now, if I can. Though something tells me I will be kept awake by dangerous thoughts tonight._

 


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

Irene never did set foot in the house again. It seemed as if the moment she left she took the summertime with her and the town began to descend into a frigid slumber; the mist loomed mid-air that night, sleet flurrying like a swarm of insects, uncharacteristically icy for the time of year. The frost wasn’t the only chilling presence that would haunt me over this wintertime- my father’s words had sparked a consciousness of something else, something more awful than anything the elements could throw at me- something undeniably internal.

-

Dominic Howard’s diary, 1912-

_Christmas Eve-_

_It’s done. The vile secret I’ve been hiding for months now has been told. It was difficult, I won’t lie- but I am fairly certain it is in the best hands it could be, and is safe there for now. What forced it out at last was going to church this evening with the family. There was something so moving about the gentle voices of the carol singers, their music falling from the sky like some divine, crystalline rain, and the warm light cast in splendorous colours from the windows, which brought a certain holiness to settle around the four of us. I felt somehow denied from its presence, as if it shunned me for the evil I concealed, and I knew that somehow, it had to be expelled. The guilt has been eating away at me for so long now- I cannot find joy in the Christmas decorations, the excitement of presents, or the company of friends. I feel as if I do not deserve such pleasures._

_We met the Wolstenholmes outside after the service, and Father was kind enough to invite Chris round for the rest of the evening- I’m glad our friends live so close by, as it is so easy to reach them whenever we please. I knew that out of everyone, of all my family and friends, he could be trusted to listen and hopefully forgive me._

_We talked for what must have been hours, long after Father had gone to bed; Matthew must have retired too, as I hadn’t seen a sign of him since we returned. He always did get moody after going to church. I felt that now, in the soothing light of the parlour fire and surrounded by the soft glow of Christmas lights, was the right time to speak my mind to him._

_“Christopher, I must speak to you” I mumbled quietly, still afraid of how I would be received. “There’s something troubling me and-oh, I must tell someone. It’s hurting me not to tell it. But Chris-you mustn’t tell a soul, not as long as you live, no matter how it hurts you to keep it! I’d be hated so much if anyone were to find out. After this, we must never speak of it again. Will you promise?”_

_He rose from where he slumped in the armchair, a mix of interest and concern on his face. “As long as I live, I promise. Nobody shall know.”_

_I froze. I had often rehearsed this scenario in my head, and now it had become reality, I was startled. Perhaps part of me had always planned for this truth never to be known by anyone other than myself. “I-I-I don’t quite know how to say it. It’s very hard to word. It’s about Matthew.”_

_He frowned grimly. “Matthew? You haven’t fallen out with him, have you? It would be a shame. You always were so close.”_

_“We have, but-“ Only over a small matter of me borrowing his horse a few days ago, as Quincey had got ice in his hooves, which was rather minor. “Well, that’s rather beside the point, we shall be better again soon, we always are- but I feel quite afraid, Christopher, there’s something…something about him and me that I feel…I feel I have only just begun to understand.”_

_He looked at me quizzically, and I tried to continue without letting myself become too deterred. “He’s been with me all my life, Chris- he’s in everything around me, and he is dearer to me than my own soul. But through all of these fights we’ve had and all the girls we’ve been around with- there has been a feeling growing stronger and stronger in me, and it is-well, rather frightening. Until now it was obscure and unclear, and I did not know if it would last, or whether it was just a fallacy. But now-now I am quite sure of what it is, and yet-it is only the more frightening for it!”_

_“How, Dominic?” I had obviously confused him with my rambling. “What is it?”_

_“Oh, God above, Christopher, I think- no, I know it!” I slowed my breath, calming myself before the hellish words could come. God, I’m still not sure it was the right choice to tell him! It’s dreadful, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, but I still confessed it to him! - “I know that I love him.”_

_My companion sat up suddenly, his dark, humble eyes suddenly flashing with a rare alarm. “Dominic, what- are you sure?  Are you absolutely positive that this isn’t just some brotherly kinship?”_

_And then before I knew it, the words came rushing out, pouring from me like water from a broken dam-“I know it! I’m quite sure- I love him, I love him more than anyone else I could ever imagine existing. Why, if I had to choose from every human in the world which one I should spend my life with, it would be him. At first I banished the thought but- it refuses to be banished now! It is everywhere I look. I am consumed with love for him, and it goes far beyond platonic love in its intensity. But I cannot tell him. He’ll never know- he must never know how I love him! He’ll never love me back. There isn’t the slightest chance that he loves me, Christopher. If I told him he would loathe me, and since I love him so- I couldn’t bear that. Besides, it would never work. I must endure the pain of this love. I think it will sit with me forever, though! How will I live, Christopher, to know that I want something I can never have?!”_

_There was a most poisonous silence as my friend- or at least, I hoped he still was- digested the information. His breathing was laboured, and from the misery pooling in those wise eyes I could see that everything he had ever known was telling him to abandon me. Yet- oh, Chris, I owe you my very life for it- he strove to battle those instincts, and all in my name! “I can’t pretend I know how this must feel, Dom- you must understand that. But you are my friend, and I won’t disown you for a thing you can’t control, no matter how the Lord might condemn it.” I sighed in a joyous relief, but he halted my thanks. “But there are many things man can never have. I might wish to fly, but I never will. There are many impossibilities, and though it may hurt to have to bear them, patience and humility are often well rewarded. And besides, he does not know- you may still love him from afar and content yourself that he will always be beside you and will always be your companion, through thick and thin. Do you see, Dominic? You may not love him as you wish, but he will always be here with you, and when love is pure and real, it does not ask for more.”_

_I stared up at him in awe. “Are you sure, Christopher? Have you ever been in love?”_

_“No-but my Father told me that. He knows much about love.” He hummed._

_I sighed, feeling as if there were somehow more to say. His comments had not soothed the storm that raged in my chest. “It’s not because I am afraid of what others will think of me that I won’t say it, Christopher-all that is quite irrelevant to me. I’m simply afraid that he will desert me if he learns the truth. If he were just to come up to me and tell me that he felt the same- I don’t think I’d care if all the world knew.” At that very moment, I thought I heard a shuffling noise to the left of me, behind the door, and started. It was probably nothing, simply my heightened senses, deceived by anxiety, but I was petrified all the same. “Oh! What was that noise?”_

_Christopher blinked, as if released from a trance. “Probably just a mouse, or something similar- we always get them snuffling around our house for scraps of food.”_

_I began to panic. “Oh, Chris, are you sure? What if someone’s been listening-oh, God, what if they know-!”_

_He gestured for me to calm myself. “Dominic, it’s alright. There’s nobody here. Nobody heard us.”_

_“But what if they knew, Chris? What would happen then?”_

_“I-I don’t know exactly, but I have the most horrid feeling that people would lose a lot of respect for you- and in turn, the rest of your family. Dom, you’re only young, and this might not be the love of your life. There might be someone else right around the corner for you, someone who will be safer and easier to love than him. Now, I don’t mean to deprive you of your wishes-the both of you are my dearest friends, and I simply want you to be happy- but just think about the shame that might hang over you if the secret were to get out. My advice is just to be patient. Even if this love never leaves you, you must remember always how lucky you are that Matthew is so devoted to you. He will never leave you, I’m sure, even if he knew how you feel for him- and for that you should remain thankful.”_

_I nodded sadly. Christopher was right. I should cherish Matt always- and thank God that I have been given the opportunity to be so close to him._

_My guest left soon afterwards, and I am now writing from my bed. Matthew is absent from his place across the room. God only knows where he’s got to! I do hope he will be careful, if he’s gone out. I must remember not to mention anything to him about my conversation with Christopher, and I must hide this diary from him, too- God forbid that he ever knew the terrible truth of my feelings for him! I am simply glad that there will perhaps be a happier Christmas for us tomorrow now that the weight of my secret is shared by the shoulders of another._

_-_

Charlotte Lowe’s diary, 1912-

_Christmas Eve._

_We couldn’t have dreamed of more dreary weather for Christmas! Nature has not blessed us with the gleaming crisp frost and chill, alpine winds, nor a blanket of picturesque snow- instead, we are left with a howling chill and tiresome showers, the sky a bleak grey- perhaps when January comes, we might expect some of that winter weather we have always loved._

_The children- oh, I must refrain from calling them that! They are growing into young men now- seem much less excitable for tomorrow than I would have hoped, Dominic especially- it is most strange, for usually he is the happier of the two-it’s true, he hasn’t been himself since Irene left him. Do the two of them think they are too old for a little jollity at this time of year? Pish, they will always be babies to me, and I’ve been trying my hardest to spark even the tiniest flame of enthusiasm in either of them._

_But actually, now I think about it, just this evening I have seen unparalleled joy displayed by the young Matthew! It was a weird sight to see, and I almost thought I my ears deceived me when I heard his holler in the murky night, out amongst the babble of the brook and dusky birdsong- a shout of absolute glee, and stumbling footsteps which sounded like me to a skip or a dance across the dewy grasses. I hurried out to see what the matter was, lantern in hand, and picked out his shape amongst the blackness, his pale skin burning white in the shadows. He laughed loudly upon seeing me, and darted back out of sight nimbly._

_“Matthew, what on earth- what are you doing out here on your own?” I shouted, afraid he would get lost or hurt himself. He whizzed back into vision, quick as a firefly, and heavily giggled with his foggy breath streaming off into the abyss._

_“Oh, Mrs Lowe, it’s only you- I just felt like going for a run.” It was odd to see him appear so free, so careless and innocent! He turned from me, raising his hands skyward and crying out in exaltation of the world such as I had never seen. “Oh, what a beautiful night! The sky is marvellous, don’t you think?”_

_I looked up, seeing nothing but black bearing down upon me, and seeing not a glimmer of truth in what he said. “Marvellous? It’s all obscured by clouds! There isn’t a star in sight! Do come inside, now! The cold will make you sick, and I’ve warned you about running around in the dark! You’ll have a fall!”_

_“Ha! Me, fall? You mustn’t really know me!” He snickered. “I wouldn’t fall, not even if the Devil himself were to send a…an infernal firestorm against me!” He laughed again wickedly and I winced at his blasphemy._

_“I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again! Come inside this instant!”_

_He sat down on the grass and threw me the most unapologetic, simpering grin I’d ever seen in my life. “Oh, I’m sorry, really, Mrs Lowe, but isn’t the world just wonderful tonight?  Even the black sky is as fine to me as Chinese silk. There’s no ugliness anywhere I look.” His face took on a sudden otherworldliness, as if he were some creature other than the rest of us, living in a mystical place the rest of humankind was denied entry to. It was puzzling- such serenity there was in those eyes which seemed always so troubled!_

_I went to sit beside him. “What’s brought on this strange humour, boy? Has some miracle befallen you?”_

_He smiled peaceably. “Oh, yes. I feel as if all obstacles to my desires are finally cleared- all I must do now is wait, and eternal happiness will be mine. I know of a truth which makes me more joyful than anything in the world!” He leapt to his feet, but I snatched is wrist to restrain him. “Oh, do let me run some more! I’m so delighted- I’m seldom this happy!”_

_“Well, I’m glad for that, but you won’t be so happy if you do yourself an injury. Calm down, now! Sit here, and tell me all about it.”_

_He looked away distantly, some of his euphoria slipping away at my request. “Forgive me, but I simply can’t. The very reason I’m not out fulfilling it right now is out of secrecy- it is too early now. I may ruin everything if I am too hasty. But in good time, the world will be mine! I swear to God, I’ll have my will, even if I must wait ten years!” His eyes gleamed with a menacing determination, and I found myself suddenly not wanting to know any more of what his monstrous plot could be, so I tugged him away from his wild playground and towards the house._

_“Well, you can wait some of that time in bed! The master will be wondering where you’ve got to. Away, inside now! I won’t tell you again!”_

_He slunk away, his brightness dimmed but by no means put out, and off to his room. Dominic was already fast asleep, God bless him; perhaps they can both dream of happy things tonight, if only for once._

 


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

Dominic Howard’s diary, 1913-

_10 th January-_

_We’ve lost a beloved friend to the cruel winter this morning.  Algernon, the faithful mutt who has belonged to my father for my entire life, has finally succumbed to the grip of old age. Matthew had gone to see the horses in the barn, and upon trying to wake up the sleeping creature as he lay all curled up in the hay in a corner, he was alarmed to find no grunt sound from the furry form, and a distinct lack of life-warmth; he shook the poor dog’s body to find it limp and lifeless, and quite distressed, ran inside to alert my father._

_We were, of course, distraught; my first friend as an infant had left us, and one of my father’s last reminders of Eleanor had finally slipped from his grasp. We all beheld him, the four of us, in a mournful silence before the fireplace._

_I feel very odd regarding the death of Algernon; it suddenly feels as if I am not a boy anymore. I feel that wherever that sweet dog has gone now, whatever dark place he’s confined to, he’s taken my childhood away with him. Now all that remains is the horrid emptiness of adulthood, and an impending notion that something very great and terrible awaits me; the feelings that stir within me have been altered very little by Christopher’s advice. I am afraid, afraid of what I feel; I know it can come to no good end, and I find I am constantly reassuring myself that in order to gain happiness for all I must reject these feelings. They spell nothing but doom._

_It is so hard to suppress them now, when my emotions run highest; Father ordered me and Matthew to bury the dog somewhere out in the wood, and we chose a secluded spot besides the river where mellow rapids burbled sweetly in the darkness, and the gentle chitter of birds scattered about us in the frost-cool air. I carried the furry mass from the house, my arms stretched as wide as they could to hold the entire animal, whilst Matt carried the shovel, and after a few minutes of furious digging in the frigid night, my much-loved pet was commended to the earth._

_Me and my companion stood over the humble, unmarked grave, and did not utter a single word. Not until he had quietly taken hold of my hand and begun to stroke it finely with his thumb- at this I began to shudder and became quite hideously aware of how I liked it! Self-loathing thunders down upon me still, as if I were sat in the pool beneath a waterfall!- I snatched my hand away from his and faced out into the yawning void of the forest, spying the dominating summit of Ingleborough far above, and sat myself on the leafy floor. How I wished he could continue with his affection, and how little he knew of how I dreamt of him! I felt deceitful- he must have only meant it as a friendly gesture, and yet I denied it to him out of my own insecurity._

_From somewhere in the darkness he slipped down to sit beside me, seemingly without making a sound as he traversed the whispering terrain, and he looked at me quite deeply, as if there were something he expected me to say. I wished- oh, God, how I wished!- I could tell him everything, how lovely his eyes were tonight, or how scared I was of what the future might bring, and how I didn’t want to get any older- but I was made mute by fear. And so, I sat, trying to think of something, anything to say to him to satisfy his hunger. I eventually thought of a question which would make him think of something else without a doubt._

_“What would you do, Matthew, if I were to die?”_

_He paled with fright with remarkable speed and began to shift away from me in unease. “I don’t want to think of you dying! I shan’t even consider the idea.” He crossed his arms like a dissatisfied toddler._

_I became quite annoyed at his stubbornness. “Oh, do, Matt! I would like to know- how would you ever live without me? Where would you go? What would you do?” I am aware of how I was teasing him, but- there is a special pleasure to be gained in teasing people, one I knew well as a boy, and one I desperately wished to relive._

_He harrumphed indignantly. “If you really do insist- though I’ll touch wood!” He cried, wandering over to a low-hanging branch and tapping it morosely. “I should think I wouldn’t go on living for a minute more. I would feel so stranded- so afraid of the world around me- if you were not there by my side.”_

_I was really rather surprised. I think- I think I would have given the same answer, but I would never have guessed that he would ever be so prepared to give so much for me. Perhaps I can gain some hope, then, in knowing that though my feelings may never be recognised nor reciprocated, Chris is right; Matthew is fond of me, and it seems he always shall be. Unless- no, no. It can’t be that. Father says we will find a new pet soon enough._

_-_

_19 th January- _

_Today my father brought in a big heap of articles for his writing. I always do like to do a little reading of them; to learn a little more about the world from the texts he can spare once his work is done, so as usual I took a handful of the cut-outs and stole back to my room. Father smiled benevolently as I took the papers- he does like it when I do my reading, as he wants my mind to be broadened._

_One of the papers in particular had interested me- it was a short essay about certain activities in Europe at the moment. I didn’t understand many of the words- several terms like ‘Hellenism’ and ‘Neo-Classicism’ quite escaped me, but after a few re-reads I began to grasp the point in hand. As far as I can gather, there were certain values in Classical times, in the courts of Roman emperors and Greek palaces- men and women were thought to be totally equal, and almost…how can I say it? Interchangeable? In other words, it was quite acceptable for a man to take either as his partner. In this article, it was describing how in the Continent, and in certain localised areas of Britain herself, such values are making a remarkable resurgence amongst artistic circles._

_It was certainly very intriguing. For a moment I entertained the fact, in a blinding, fleeting happiness, that such a development could be beneficial; perhaps Matt and I could, in the future, be more than simply friends, and society would think nothing of it. How foolish I was to think such a thing! Because a few hours after my obtaining the script, Father burst into my room with a face red with stricken rage- he had looked through his papers and noticed that a certain choice slip was missing. He tore the paper from my hand and read it with irate horror. I wondered, what on earth could be so terrible to make him react in such a way? Was it very important that he retained that paper?_

_He explained to me in thunderous terms that I was forbidden, absolutely forbidden, to ever read any of his papers again. The things described in that article were outrageous; the acts committed atrocities of the highest order, and those responsible the most woeful sinners that the world has ever known. I was frightened, horribly frightened- such angry words are not characteristic of my father’s speech- and I began to cry quietly in my fright, which he softened at._

_“Son, I am sorry, I never meant to upset you, but- you must understand,” He began gently. “These things are not for you to know about. The people described in this are no role models. They are terrible, godless people. I have brought you up to love God, have I not?” I nodded. “Dominic, these people are not like us. They think in a very different way. I don’t want you to read about them, because I am afraid you will think- you will think in the same way, and that would be such a terrible waste of such a wonderful, pious mind. You are my only son, Dominic. You must remember that you are everything to me- the peak of all my achievements- and anything you want may be yours if you ask. Only do not-_ do not _\- test me like this.”_

_He had begun to cry a little too, and I began to think of how much he must see Mother in me. Wordlessly I relinquished the article, and with a kiss to my forehead, he retired to his study._

_I am very moved by what has taken place. The notions in the article appealed to me so much- but I cannot pursue them. Look how it would ruin my father, to whom I owe everything! He would surely die if he lost me to such ideologies. I have made my decision; all my dreams of being with Matthew are to be abandoned at once. It will hurt, I know; but at least I can take solace in the fact that Matthew will be unaware of what he has lost._

-

_5 th February-_

_Today was Matthew’s fourteenth birthday (or rather, the anniversary of his arrival- we assumed he was the same age as me, and celebrate his birth every year on that same day as the true time of his birth is still a mystery), and Father felt it was apt time to buy the both of us some new animals to take the place of our lovely Algernon.  We walked down to the village, Mrs Lowe in tow, and visited the marketplace- as we had hoped, there stood a vendor with a basket filled with little squirming puppies, just a few months old!_

_They were some sort of mongrel hound litter, of no definite breed but of an appealing tawny brown; the youngsters yipped gleefully on seeing us, and one bit my finger, but it was endearing all the same. It was exceedingly difficult to choose just one each- the little darlings seemed so eager to please, and so lovingly loyal to us already- that my father eventually gave in and allowed us to take the entire basket. We aren’t sure what to name them yet- we’ll have to wait and see what they grow into._

_The puppies were not all I saw this morning; we managed to spy the Wolstenholme family milling about the groceries, and of course, Matthew and I rushed up immediately to greet Chris, but I was captivated by a different face. I didn’t recognise the china-white skin and cascading chestnut hair immediately, but when I caught sight of luxuriant mahogany eyes, I was quite blown away. It was Tess- she had been very ill and unable to attend school for years, I’d find out later, and had grown considerably since our last meeting. She is something remarkable now; youthful, and yet enchantingly womanly, too- ever since I have returned home, I cannot forget the sound of her voice- it is as divine as birdsong, or sweet music- I am totally in awe of her._

_Already I am itching to see her again. I can’t sleep- I sit writing in the kitchen, trying to hush the excitable pups around me, as I feel too restless to remain in my room. I have a great delight in the way I feel now- the curse of loving Matthew might finally have been lifted! I am in love with Tess, and I hope dearly she feels the same way. I shall write to her straight away- I must see her again! I feel like I will die if I don’t!_

_Matthew, on the other hand, seems peculiarly miserable. I would have thought he’d be delighted to see me so happy! But you know how it is with him- it seems nothing in the world can content him completely. What is it, I wonder, that he wants? Is it money, or fame, or a wife? Sometimes I wish I could see into his mind, and sometimes I am afraid that such a power would reveal devilish things within. Poor boy- I hope that one day he can find such happiness, too. He won’t like to wake up alone in the room- I suppose I’ll have to return now. But I could dance there with the joy of infatuation!_


	9. Chapter 9

**IX**

Oh God, how I regret what I did! At the time, my attraction to Tess had seemed like such a wonderful thing; a symbol of new hope and of pure, innocent love and happiness, which would benefit all of us to an extent. But when I look back- I wish I could return to my young self as he dreamed of her in his room that night and shake him by the shoulders, and tell him to turn back now, no matter how he might long for her. I would warn him of the devilish outcomes of his choice, the misery and the chaos which would follow on from that decision would be the demise of so many. But if I had that power, I wouldn’t be sat here simply recalling the terrible events which have passed.

I met with Tess again, and confessed how I felt. She was quite astonished, and grateful, too- she admitted that she was rather impressed by me in turn, and wished to see me in the future.

-

Charlotte Lowe’s diary, 1913-

_1 st of April._

_We’ve quite the trouble in the household today. It all began harmlessly enough when Dominic brought over that sweet friend of his, little Tess Wolstenholme, to come and see myself and William. She’s effortlessly polite and helpful around the house- she aided my tidying and cooking whilst Dominic looked on quite uselessly from the kitchen table, wishing, perhaps, he had any knowledge of household duties so that he could help us; but ah, I’ve always thought he was brought up too soft by William. The lad knows nothing of real hard work. Perhaps the pragmatic, practical girl completes him in some way?_

_It was all quite serene at first; that was until the Hall’s resident dragon rose from his lair. Matthew, having woken late in the day as he often does, stumbled down the stairs languidly with eyes that could set alight a conflagration! His temper has worsened with age; the smallest thing sends him quite mad with rage. So imagine how fearsome he must look when he comes upon the happy couple in the kitchen! He’s never liked Dominic’s other friends, and as far as I know, Dominic has kept his relationship a secret from his brother, not wanting to incur his fury. I personally disagree with his decision. I had only thought that having a secret kept from him would frustrate Matthew further, and prompt a volcanic flare-up when the truth finally escaped._

_Tess greeted him cheerfully, but it earned her no favour- he sent a nefarious sneer her way, causing her to flinch and scuttle back away to work. I could see Dominic biting his tongue, holding back a scathing remark to deter his resentful friend, but not wishing to appear offensive in front of his guest. I did the necessary deed for him and admonished him._

_“Matthew, now, don’t be rude. Say hello to Tess.”_

_He scowled bitterly. “Why? She barely leaves this house. I feel like I’ve barely been out of her_ ravishing _company for five minutes. Why don’t you go home, Tess? I’m sure your family misses you.”_

_“Matthew,” Dominic hissed. “Don’t be such a reptile. She’s welcome here whenever she likes. Father said so.”_

_“Welcome with you, perhaps.”_

_“Now, now!” I interrupted. “I’ll have no more of this nonsense. Matthew, do help with the washing up, now. We could do with an extra hand.”_

_He grumbled like an earthquake as he made his way into the kitchen, and started scrubbing up so furiously I thought he might ruin the crockery!  Tess went over to Dom, quite distressed by the unwelcoming host, and embraced him fondly. Matthew made no secret of his grimacing; he stole vicious gazes over his shoulder, fuming silently away as he watched their friendliness. As he stacked the plates up on the drier he happened to notice one moment of tenderness- Tess perhaps forgetting or not even knowing of her friend’s plan to hide their love- and kissed Dominic quite softly on the lips._

_Dominic reacted first; his smile quickly giving away to a white horror, and then Matthew, having been silent for a few precious moments, froze in an absolute, crippling disbelief. He shook, baring his teeth in a wicked snarl, and threw down the plates in his hands with an ear-splitting crack that rang horribly through the entire house. I shouted in dismay to see the porcelain scattered about and the woodwork of the floor dented; Tess clutched Dominic close, and Matthew, close to tears with vexation, stormed from the room and vanished into the bowels of the house._

_I knew the secrecy would come to no good! It’ll cost a pretty penny to replace the kitchenware, and more than money can buy to fix our Matthew’s heart. He’s been betrayed; betrayed by the one he loves best, and it is soul-crushing to see._

_I heard the two of them arguing this afternoon, once Miss Tess had taken her leave. I didn’t stay to entertain their bickering, but I caught a fair few words about trust, brotherhood and hatred. It’s all very puzzling. What was once the sweetest of affections between them has turned into something poisonous for both of them- they are hopeless without each other, but together they do nothing but fight. They are addicted to each other- though it hurts to do so, they cannot help but seek each other’s company. At least it’s all out in the open now, though I can’t say I’m expecting any improvement in the behaviour of either boy._

_-_

_William Howard’s diary, 1913-_

_10 th July._

_Matthew was again absent from dinner today. He’s eating with the Wolstenholmes; usually I would object to their catering for him, but it is no difficult task in these circumstances- a member of their family dines with us, and so he takes her portion. It’s strange- almost as if we have made some kind of trade between Matthew and Tess! We rarely see either together anymore. Matt simply can’t abide the girl’s company, and by extension, that of Dominic. It does sadden me- they used to be so close as children!- but I suppose we should have seen some changes in their demeanours as they approach adulthood- maybe when they are all full grown they will mellow and end their paltry conflicts.  But for now we must learn to live with their volatile manners!_

_Dominic is really very fond of the girl; every moment spent together would be blissful as can be, filled to the brim with youthful affection and gentleness, if it wasn’t for the jealous eyes that charred their skin from across the room whenever they were unlucky enough to be in Matthew’s presence. He and Dominic haven’t spoken in friendly terms for months now. The girl is lovely, but she is doing a good job of coming between them.  The poor thing mustn’t even know what she’s done wrong, and the rest of us are just as clueless. Who knows what has filled the boys with such bitterness? They’ve always had fiery personalities, but the flames are no longer pleasant; they are starting to lick away at our happiness with their incendiary tongues._

_Sometimes too full of poison to stay within these walls- well, I say sometimes, but I think I mean most of the time- Matthew goes to visit his friends in the village, seeking refuge from the source of his agonies. At first it was just for meals- but now he goes there almost first thing in the morning, skulking around with Christopher and sneaking scornful glances at us from the fields. Whenever there is any opportunity to go out into Ingleton and run errands he leaps at the chance to leave us. He’s slept away from home many times, too; and as I will not allow Tess to share the room with him, Dominic is left quite alone in his chamber._

_I wonder what my son must think; he doesn’t help the situation, making Matthew feel unwelcome with the rather nasty things he can say, which do not make me overly proud of him; he’s so absorbed in his new partner that he can’t seem to spare a single second of his attention for his friend, and will often become much more comfortable once Matthew has tired of his company and decided to leave. There’s something about his brother that greatly unnerves him, you see. Yet at the same time- I see some life leave his glittering eyes the moment Matthew goes, and a certain listlessness in his movement, a laugh, a smile that seems too gleeful to be real- almost a superficiality to the things my son says and does which distress me just as much as his cruelty before. Once Tess is gone, and he is still alone, there seems to be nothing can revive him but the return of his oldest friend._

_I am not sure how to interpret it. To me it seems that Dominic really does favour Matthew more than anyone else, and deep down would much rather be in his company; but for some reason thinks he must keep up this pointless, hurtful act of hating him. It’s almost as if he is disgusted by his own affection for him._

_I spotted such misery in his room this evening; head slumped on his shoulder, gazing out of the window like his mind was lost to another world. He looked wearier than a young boy should be, as if he carried all the woes in the world on his shoulders. I hid behind the door; I knew he’d hide this vulnerability from me if he saw me, and begin his masquerade of happiness again- and from my hiding place I saw him sigh with a heavy despondence. I worried for my boy- I do hate to see him so upset- and I was about to stop my restraint and go to comfort him when suddenly he jerked from his silence, eyes widening and shining boldly in the glass; he pressed a hand to the surface and laughed with a breathless relief. There was a sort of brief sadness in his smile, as if it was painful to accept; I stole to my room to see if I could see the source of his joy from a place he would not discover me._

_It was quite obvious what it was- through the leaded pattern a figure crept up the cobbled garden path, from beneath the somnolent fronds of willow, his pale face lit delicately by a lantern one side. He looked as if he was trying his best not to be noticed, and though I caught his eyes flit in Dominic’s direction once he did not react and then kept his gaze firmly fixed on his feet. It reminded me of the little urchin who had arrived in my garden over ten years ago now; a pang struck my chest in bittersweet longing for the innocent child he had once been._

_I heard Dominic’s footsteps thunder down into the hall, and expected him to greet his friend with great emotion and excitement; alas, when Matthew had come in, no voracious welcome graced him. I heard my son’s sneering hum- a noise formed from aversion and contempt- and Matthew’s accusing tone hissed in the darkness:_

_“That isn’t the welcome I expected. I saw you smiling at me before.”_

_“I wasn’t smiling. I was laughing at you, because you’re going to get into trouble for staying out so late.”_

_A grumble. “Do you think you’re clever when you lie?”_

_“I don’t think you can say anything about lying, Matthew.”_

_I heard a shove and stumbling steps from downstairs, then tired footfalls ascending the staircase as Matthew, for the first time this week, blessed us with the pleasure of sleeping in his own house. My son eventually followed after a strange hesitation._

_Matthew’s behaviour is peculiar, but not too estranged from how he has always been. But Dominic!-how my son could become so callous and cold, I have no idea. So much of his love is diverted to Tess that I think he has forgotten about his family and friends. I don’t wish for him to leave her, but- I just don’t want this change in him to be permanent. I cannot bear seeing him and Matthew squabble. I pray that he will remember how things used to be when he was just a child and learn again to treasure that which he is so lucky to have._

_-_

When I look back, I wish with all my heart that I had heeded my father’s advice. Attacking Matthew was not working to my advantage, no matter how much I thought it was. And in a matter of months, a day would come which I will always remember as absolutely unsurpassable in its horror.


	10. Chapter 10

**X**

Dominic Howard’s Diary, 1913 _-_

_10 th December-_

_I am in the foulest of moods. Something absolutely revolting has occurred, and has left me feeling quite sick- I will tell all soon, but first I must relate how awful my day was to begin with. Last night, Matthew wouldn’t stop talking to me in the dark, and I couldn’t get a wink of sleep. I had to throw my pillows at him before he tired of teasing me and finally silenced. He was asking me such bizarre questions- all about life and love and death, bizarre philosophical things I didn’t care about when it was so late and I was so tired, and I didn’t want to speak to him anyway, not with the beastly manner he’s had around me recently._

_So this morning I was already weary and short of temper before the mischief all began. The dogs were all yapping away in the kitchen to a degree that it angered me; I shouted for them to be quiet, and they whimpered and shied away into a corner. It was only halfway through my breakfast ( I ate alone, for I didn’t want to endure eating with Matthew- he has an off-putting habit of staring at me whilst I eat) when I noticed that Pip, as we have started to call the youngest of the litter, was missing. Pip reminds me most of Algernon; his markings are the same rugged liver colour, and I instantly feared something had happened to my favourite pet. I investigated every corner of the house, but he was nowhere to be found!- Irritated and afraid in equal measure, I alerted my father, and as he was too busy to assist me in my search, sent for Matthew to go and scout with me on the moor._

_Oh, curses! How I wish he hadn’t- If he’d known what woeful things would occur, he would have just let me go alone- but my father still thinks there’s hope for our friendship. How stupid he can be! It’s obvious to anyone that the damage Matthew has done to our brotherhood is irreparable. If he wasn’t so childish and unrealistic and jealous, we could still leave in peace in this house- but now he’s worsened it to the point that I hate his company. In truth I’d have rather flung myself off a cliff-face than go out with him today. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d done something horrid, like drowned the dog himself just to spend a few moments with me- his morals are skewed like that._

_We took the horses out into the snow; they were heavy-footed and slow in the drift. The snowfall has been enormous this year, blanketing everything beneath its immaculate veil, dusting trees with snaky lines of white, the frozen mountain-tops bleeding into the lofty clouds as if the sky and earth were one. Despite the cold, the sun was beaming; it was reflecting from the ice in a way that irritated my skin, and soon began to burn. I felt absurd in my thick coat as it made me hellishly stuffy, so tossed it back into the stables; Matthew copied me, and that made me quite cross. I do hate it when he does that. I led this time, guiding our steeds up the foothills, calling in a hopeless voice for the little lost pup. There was no amicable bark to signal his return, and so as we began to forget our purpose, we drifted up higher and higher until we were nearing the summit._

_The air glittered with fine, invisible snowflakes, and the black trees twisted in the wind were completely caked in snow; they looked like disfigured, hideous marble statues, humanoid shapes with limbs broken and distended by some wicked torture. It was eerily quiet, and the sun blindingly bright; all was a white expanse, filled with silence and snow and the thin, choking air. I felt something, anything, had to be said; his stare intrigued me somewhat when we halted, a little while from Norber’s rocks, and made me wonder what it was that made him do the things he did. For a short while, I felt I was once again in that silly state of mind about a year ago now where I was convinced I loved him; but it was probably just the dizzying effect of the mountain breeze and the stark dichotomy of searing heat and perishing cold._

_His eyes were of a dark indigo; the colours of his eyes seemed to melt out of his irises into the shadowy depths of his sockets and mix luxuriantly there like some fine oils or inks. He eyed me with mistrust and intrigue, as if, just like me, he were trying to decode me somehow. I was about to turn my back on him and continue the search, but his voice halted me._

_“You love her then, this Tess?”_

_I stopped dead in my tracks. My companion had silently dismounted and was watching me coldly, waiting for an answer. I snorted a harsh laugh. “You speak as if she were a stranger- you’ve known her just as long as I have!” His face didn’t glow with amusement like I had expected. “But of course I love her. What makes you think I wouldn’t?”_

_It took a while for him to reply. “Oh, I don’t know,” He sighed, tossing his frosty gaze away from me and looking somewhere into the ghostly horizon in a way that made me feel quite dismissed. “I had a feeling there was someone else-but it doesn’t matter,” His eyes swept back to me, surveying me with a wrinkled nose and small frown. “I feel like you two are just… a strange couple to put together.”_

_I grimaced indignantly. “What do you mean by that? We’re just as normal as any other couple would be.”_

_“That is precisely what is so strange!” He cried, his voice taking on a worryingly fierce edge, which shook me, as I didn’t think we were having an argument. “Most of the people I know who are really very in love are just about the strangest people I know. They don’t bother with silly things like keeping up appearances. They only care about each other.”_

_I hadn’t a clue who he was comparing us to. We don’t have a great deal of family friends, and the only married couples we knew were the gentlest, most inoffensive of them all. I didn’t attempt to understand him, but to provoke him would be worse. “Well, we’ll agree to disagree, then.” There was the tiniest gleam of disappointment in his eye, as if he’d meant to keep talking to me, and for once I pitied him. I could be charitable enough to spare a few minutes of my attention, couldn’t I? “What about you, Matthew? Is there a certain someone special in your life you aren’t telling me about?”_

_He looked up at me, stupefied. “Someone special? What do you mean by that?”_

_“Oh come on, don’t give me that rot! Are you in love, Matthew? Do you love anyone?”_

_“I-I really can’t say…” He stuttered, suddenly losing his confidence and shaking visibly. I hadn’t a clue why he should be so secretive. It wasn’t like him to let me see him so weak._

_“Don’t be a spoilsport! There must be someone. You’ve always struck me as the romantic type.”_

_“Well…well I suppose, there is one…” He drawled, and excitement tingled in my stomach. Finally, he was beginning to relent! I grasped Quincey’s rein in anticipation and began to dig my nails so hard into my hand that purple welts still bloom there now- but still he faltered, and would not speak._

_“Oh, do tell me! I’m getting quite bored out here,” I urged him. I suddenly remembered our reason for being out here- I’d quite forgotten in the thrill of quizzing Matthew. “There’s no sign of Pip anywhere! Come on, humour me, who’s this young paramour of yours?”_

_“Oh, well…Dominic, it really does pain me to say it, but- oh, I’ve been longing to say it all my life, I think!” He gasped, seeming almost close to tears. I was entranced by this rare flash of emotion; like I’d struck gold amongst the rocks, and I waited for him to gain the composure to reveal his secret. He breathed so heavily, and hid his face from me- he looked to the sky and I saw his eyes glitter wetly in the midday sun, and when they fell on me I think I already knew the answer- and it horrified me._

_“Dominic,” He proclaimed, his fear still evident but his gaze not leaving me for a second. “It’s you.”_

_The silence howled around us. There were no words in my mouth, no thoughts in my head; only the acrid aftertaste of my hopefulness, a caustic bitterness, almost a sickness, something fuelled by fear and anger which flooded through my veins the moment those diabolical words left his lips._

_“I am in love with you. That’s why I object to this business with you and Tess so much. Don’t you see?”  He furrowed his brow, as if he expected more from me- like he thought I would applaud his choice. “Can’t you see how I wish it was me you wanted for your partner instead of her, with all the fervour in the world?” I heard something scratchy, almost inhuman in his voice, something that sounded like a sob, but was twisted by malignance into something frightening._

_“You…you love me. Well, that, that really is the news of the day, isn’t it…” I babbled, quite unaware of what I was saying. I was too dumbstruck to articulate anything more._

_“I mean it, Dominic. I’m certain. I love you more than any creature that walks upon the earth.”_

_His words were sweet, but I couldn’t love them. He had kept this dreadful secret from me- the most abhorrent of secrets- from his dearest friend, and now did he think I would accept him? That I would reciprocate the feelings? “Oh, God, Matthew! I do hope you’re joking. Because if you love me, then by God…I’d hate you for it.”_

_His eyes widened in shock. Shock! To think he’d imagine me to react in any other way!  What on earth else did he expect? “What? But Dominic, I thought-“_

_I leant down from the horse impetuously, lowering my voice to make it clear that he was in the wrong. “Do you know the shame that I’d bear if everyone knew you were in love with me? The Howard name would be in ruins. You wouldn’t do me, or yourself, a single favour, and I swear I wouldn’t want to spend a single moment in your presence. So please, Matthew, drop this stupid thought like a stone. Never speak to me again of it, for I won’t listen to you.  Promise me, now, before God, that you are kidding, or I’ll never forgive you.”_

_The wind screamed across us, and he stood like a man ready to be hanged; the life had vanished from him, and for a moment I thought he had given in. Then, with a weighty breath, he looked to me again with new fire in his eyes. “Well…no, Dominic, I won’t deny it. I don’t care if you want me to. I love you, I always have, and I’d rather scream it from this hilltop than lie to you.” At this point I grew too full of disgust to take any more of his drivel and began to urge Quincey to turn and l started to make my way across the icy hills and away from his fetid company “And you wouldn’t, you couldn’t toss me away like that!”  He called after me. “You don’t have it in you- Dominic! Dominic, where are you going?!”_

_“Don’t speak to me!” I bellowed, not turning my head to look at him- I wouldn’t have been able to stand the sight. “I don’t want to see you- I’ll look for that wretched dog on my own, you little beast! How dare you- how dare you think such horrid things_ about _me! I’m ashamed to call you my brother!”_

_He shrieked after me, hoarse and horrid with stress. “You…you coward! You filthy coward! I know it! I know the truth, you damned liar! I’ll not spend another minute out here! I hope your hellish pet dies of cold!”_

_Those vicious words are the last I’ve heard from him today, for I tore off as fast as I could manage across the snow, striving to escape him. I roamed around the mountain for what must have been two hours, more fuming over what had passed than searching for Pip, and eventually, the wind began to pick up and the air carried a considerable chill, the snowflakes thickening and clustering together around me; I despised the thought of meeting him at home, but I knew that my father would worry over even the slightest turn for the worse in the weather._

_To my surprise, Matthew wasn’t home. I asked Father where he was, and he said he’d been in for a few minutes at lunchtime, gone upstairs with a face like thunder, and then taken his leave again, saying he’d take another look for the dog. I was glad; I don’t know what I’d do if Matthew was here now. I’ve half a mind to punch his lights out. Can you believe it? That he’s been thinking all those sordid things about me for so long- and by God, if he’d have told me just a year ago, I would have told him the same! The thought makes me sick- I just want to forget him. I almost wish he’d turn to snow and dissipate in the wind and trouble me no more._

_God-oh God- I’ve just seen something written here, in my diary! It says it on the next page- dear God! It’s Matthew’s note- and it puts the most awful fear into me- for now I see he’s folded over some of the pages- pages from a year ago- a year! He knows the truth; he knows how I felt for him! He’ll be so angry with me when he returns. I don’t know what to do- I’ll go and bring Tess over, but I’ll have to hurry, for the weather’s starting to intensify- I’ll savour her beauty and put this whole nasty business out of my mind until the demon comes back._

_-_

_I have gone for a walk. Do not worry about me. I will return in good time._

_Matthew_

_-_

_Six o’ clock- There is still no sign of Matthew. He can’t just be out looking for Pip now. What is he doing out there? The snow is becoming fierce; the wind looks awfully fast. Mrs Lowe is very anxious, and so is father. But I’m not afraid. That cockroach can survive anything. When we least want him, he’ll crawl out of the woodwork somewhere. Tess is here now, and even she is showing signs of fretting, which is queer indeed- she’s never cared for him. She seems so tense, almost frightened of my confidence. She told me before that I shouldn’t take him for granted. I almost told her what he said this morning, but I knew it wouldn’t please her, so I didn’t say a word._

_-_

_Half past seven- Father and Mr Wolstenholme have taken their horses out on the moor to search for Matthew. The blizzard outside is roaring now; beyond the window we see nothing but a dull grey, the mixture of blasting snow-flurry and howling darkness. Now I am afraid. I wait by the window with Tess as I write, holding her hand in mine, gripped by terror- I begged for my father to let me help him, as I did feel responsible for Matt’s absence, but he was adamant that he wouldn’t let me get lost as well. I hate that word, ‘lost’!  I do wish they wouldn’t use it; Matthew’s not lost, he’ll come back like he always does- I know it! I’m sure of it!_

_-_

_Nine o’clock- Tess is asleep in my bed. I cannot rest._

_-_

_Eleven o’ clock- Father and Nicholas are back. Apparently they’ve had half the town join a search party, but to no avail. My father’s face was one of desolation and petrifying loss. There was no life, no light in his features, only a tired, frustrated grief; his eyes clouded with silent tears, his coat smattered with frost- he came to see me in my bedroom and told me- oh Lord, help me write! The pen shakes in my grasp, so much do I hate to write the words!- that his search had been fruitless, and though it hurt his heart to give in, he was sorry to say that he thought Matthew was lost- possibly lost from this world entirely._

_When I learnt the news, I threw myself out of the door, begging my father through my tears to let me look for him, the moisture already freezing on my cheeks. He pushed me back inside and I shrieked, driven wild by defiance. I cannot stop weeping. I feel so weakened, so crippled by this blow that it feels I will never know happiness again- the world around me is changed already without him- everything is so frightening to behold, and it feels that terror dogs me everywhere, the sort of deathly horror that one should only experience in nightmares- but it’s real, horribly, crushingly real! This is a thing I’ve feared in the past; its possibility has haunted me before, but I never for one moment thought that he- my Matthew, my brother, my more-than-brother, my life- could be gone. So chillingly, suddenly, painfully gone. And what is even worse than the loss is the knowing that I, with my own cruel words, have driven him to it!_

_I’ve deprived myself of the thing I love best, and I don’t think I shall ever forgive myself- I’ve killed him! I’ve killed my Matthew, left him out in the cold to die a lonely, fearful death, and in vengeance, he’s stolen my immortal soul away with him!_

 


	11. Chapter 11

**XI**

_11 th December-_

_I woke this morning to see a deathly yellow light bear from the between the curtains. It was before the sunrise when Father entered my room, where I slept more from exhaustion than comfort, Tess curled up beside me in the covers, and crouched beside the bed silently, shaking my shoulder slightly to wake me._

_“Son,” He addressed me as I emerged from the violet shadows of sleep into the daylight. “Son, there’s news from the valley.”_

_My heart leapt at the words, but sank again upon seeing his face. There was no disbelieving smile, no tears of joy; just a grave frown which aged him severely. I said nothing, but watched him intently to make it known that I was listening._

_“A farmer in Chapel-Le-Dale has come round today to report that a bay-coloured horse turned up on his land sometime last night. It was badly affected by the cold; its hooves were so full of frost that it seemed in pain to walk, and it was very easily spooked, as if something had traumatised it. We have reason to believe that it is Matthew’s horse.”_

_“Is there any sign of him?” I asked weakly, my voice unable to match its former vivacity._

_My father said nothing, but shook his head, looking to the floor. “Dominic,” He spoke my name tenderly, as if that would somehow soften the crippling blow that followed, and held my hand. “Dominic, the storm last night was absolutely devastating. It was so infernal on the summit last night- the snow was so thick and fast-moving, and combined with the darkness and the cold- it was putting our search party at risk last night, even in such a large group, and in the proper attire. Dominic…I see no way that Matthew can possibly have survived such a night alone.”_

_I was not surprised by the news, but body still convulsed with the most painful of sobs, as if my heart had been ripped from my chest. My father’s soft strokes of my hair and gentle murmurs of reassurance did little to calm me. Eventually, he excused himself to return to his work and left me alone with the still and silent Tess._

_There seemed no point to getting out of bed, but I felt strongly that it was impossible for Matt to be dead. He must still be out on the moors somewhere, surely hiding away in a sheltered hollow, or perhaps just barely alive, buried in the snow, just waiting to be rescued!- I could not remain inside with such a thing playing on my mind. I took up some of my sheets for warmth, left my shoes behind, and snuck out of the back door and into the snow._

_The light on the moors was golden; shimmering in the morning light reflected on the shining sea of snow, almost alien in quality; it looked more like a desert than a moor. My toes were freezing, but I persevered; I could not turn back, or I would be prevented from leaving, and if I hesitated just a moment longer, the dying Matthew could perish without me! Ingleborough called my name, and I answered it in my cold, half-awake pilgrimage to find wherever my soulmate lay._

_In the flatlands, the wind had been negligible, but as I ascended into the blizzard-struck wastelands above, it was far from calm. Bracing winds swept the landscape fiercely, biting at skin and blowing back the sheets I clutched around me as if they were a parachute! I fought back against their pull boldly, determination forcing me to strive onwards- but as I climbed higher and higher, the snow only getting deeper and more dangerous to traverse, my hope began to ebb. From near the summit, I watched the sun’s genesis in the east; the light was so angelic than I began to cry in wonder at its beauty, the black shadows of the mountains illuminated by liquid gold. Yet all the beauty in the world seemed worthless; the pure and wondrous moors I had once loved were cruel and ugly, for they had stolen the thing most precious to me. I wept mainly for nothing would ever seem as beautiful as before without Matthew to observe it with me._

_Morose and feeling hollow, I began my descent. I came upon a flat tier of the mountain where the wind was not so ghastly and suddenly, without the wind, all I was left to think about was the loss; my grief was deafening, blinding, debilitating, and I fell to my knees, not sure where I was anymore, not wanting to carry on and refusing to accept that he was dead. But he’s gone, isn’t he? There’s no other explanation; I was cruel to him, and fate has punished me by taking him away!_

_Then, somewhere on the horizon, I thought I saw movement; a flicker of white on the ground that looked like the footfall of some invisible creature on the snow, and I leapt to my feet- I was convinced that it was his frozen ghost leading me somewhere, and despite the risk I saw no option but to follow. I must have wandered after the shifting snow for half an hour, probably walking in circles, before a sharp shrieking noise from above distracted me- I looked up; it was a lapwing! The bonny bird circled me, and I was amazed to see it had no partner, unusual for its species. I wondered up at the thing as it swept over me and darted off somewhere in the direction of the further valleys._

_Abandoning my quest for the ghost, I ran after the creature, pursuing its shadow dedicatedly. This was Matthew’s favourite bird, mine too, and therefore a much more fitting sign for his spirit to spare me- perhaps he had been transformed into an animal familiar in death! I strode desperately, even though I was weary, through the knee-deep snow after the swift bird, and came to a dead halt, only just in time, before I cast myself over a rocky precipice. My head spun in delirium, and the golden rocks lurched backwards and forwards drearily; I would have fallen into the black ravine if I hadn’t snatched a branch overhead and steadied myself with a mossy lump of granite. The stone was jagged, and scraped at my palms, but I barely felt the pain for the sickening horror that this could be the very place where Matthew took his last breath; in the sky above the seemingly bottomless void, the lapwing screamed its piercing alarm-call, dipping and diving repeatedly and dancing in wild circles._

_I don’t know, in truth, if this really was the place where he died. Perhaps he had attempted an escape over the allotment, and in the dark been blind to the treacherous, hungry earth, and been swallowed- or maybe he had even attempted the ascent in the blinding cold and without his coat- which I myself had prompted him to discard, and still hung in the stables without its owner- had slowly perished in the ice and there seen nothing but white clouding his eyes before all went black. Oh, God! Any method of death was my fault; he may have erred in loving me, but he did not deserve this end, thinking in his last thoughts that I loathed him! I should have died last night instead- I wish I had!_

_I teetered on the edge, bare feet cut into by the vicious rock and almost blue with cold, and for a moment considered that I should throw myself off the mountain. I desired to be with him so much that it almost seemed a happy thing to do. I leant a little forward, but the vertigo was absolutely dreadful and I felt a paralysing sickness grip me; I swayed backwards and fell into the snow, panting with adrenaline, choking with tears._

_I rose from the ground and saw that there was no reason for me to kill myself; it would not reunite me with Matthew. I do not think he would reach heaven, but in comparison, I deserved something twenty times worse than whatever hell he inhabited now. I felt a striking doubt, too, that anything at all awaited me after death. This lifeless, icy day was like nothing I knew from stories in the Bible. In such stories, innocent people did not die in such unfair ways. Sinners like me did not continue to live. Maybe nothing happens when we die but we simply cease to exist, and nothing more. These thoughts would frighten me in a normal state of mind, but today they prompted an alarming apathy._

_I wandered aimlessly on the slopes for the rest of the morning; once the saffron sky had paled and begun to fade to a greyish haze, I made my way home, leaving a snail-trail of flattened snow behind me. Before I could even knock upon the door it swung open, and my father grabbed me in his arms and yanked me inside, almost winding me. He shouted right in my face- and the shock was too great for me to hear him at first, but I could see tears running down his cheeks and the veins blaring in his bloodshot eyes. I panicked and stumbled to the floor, seeking to scramble away from the enraged man, unsure of whether I deserved such treatment or not- briefly I feared he knew the truth, that it was I who was responsible for this tragedy- but it passed when I eventually comprehended the meaning of his animalistic bellowing._

_“What in God’s name are you doing out there, so soon after- How could you do something so rash and stupid? Do you know how I’ve worried about you all morning?! I thought you were lost too- my own little boy, my only son- how could you do it, Dominic?! How could you put me through this?!”_

_Though I knew his anguish was only founded on love, I still began to whimper in distress. My father is sometimes angry, as all men are- but never, never in my life had I seen such a ferocious wrath as this! I barely thought my father to be capable of such violence. I huddled in the corner, and Tess flew down the stairs, running to hold me, and I knew at once that everyone in the household had been at a loss without me. Dear God! Nothing I can do brings happiness anymore! Is this how I am to live my life from this day onwards?_

_Father had turned from me, covering his reddened face with a tired hand, and from the darkness of the staircase he looked to me again. His cheeks seemed almost purple; there was a distinct scent of whisky in the air about him which made me fearful in the extreme, for Father rarely drank, and his eyes sparkled angrily at me, promising ill fortunes. “Dominic, you are not to leave the grounds of the house ever again.”_

_“What?!” I gasped, the breath taken from me, for I must return to the moors! It was essential- that was the only place I would ever see Matthew again, in body or in spirit! “Father, please, you mustn’t- oh please, don’t-!”_

_“I forbid you!” He roared. “I have lost too many loved ones out in that blasted moor. I will not lose you. You will not set one foot put in that Devil’s playground again, not if I can help it!”_

_At this I howled in protest and threw myself to the door, desperately scratching at the latch to undo it, with the intention of running away to the moorlands and never returning, of living like a wild man out in the shining bracken and never again fraternizing with the people that would dare restrain me, but Father picked me straight off my feet, still wailing, with Tess begging him to release me and harassing him to stop. I was ferried loudly upstairs and bolted in my room alone, with not even Tess for company; bless her, she’s tried so hard to help me, but she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know the depth of the suffering I have undergone._

_I have sobbed into the floorboards for at least an hour; my eyes shut, nothing but the stuffy scent of the wood in my nostrils; Oh, how I wish I could be outdoors! How I wish I could be with him, wherever he is- I’d travel to the underworld by foot to find him, and if I couldn’t lead him out, I’d live with him there. What charm did I find in the world that could possibly distract me from him? I hate myself; I have been a fool, a thoughtless fool. I wish I could go back somehow and undo it all. Anything- anything at all just to see him smile once more, and not to have my last memory of him as a pained, heart-broken scowl of my own creation!_

_I do not know what the matter with my father is. Matthew’s death has altered him for the worse; he is filled with bitterness and corrosive grief. He’s right; he’s lost so many in his life! I think Matthew was the last he could take- maybe he has no love left within him, not even for me, not for this house, not for anything. It has all been killed._

_I shall sit by the window; I shall wait to be released. They cannot keep me pounded here forever! Until then I will look out at the place where I long to be, out on those solemn, homely grasses of wild bronze- or else sleep, ignore this frightening world and entertain my dreams instead. Perhaps I will see Matt there-! It is decided. I’ll sleep in his empty bed, and drink in the scent that lingers there, and pretend he still lies beneath those covers with me, and that I am not really alone- Oh! It’s all too much to bear! To think of him hurts; to think of anything but him is a despicable crime. I have survived today- but who knows how long I will last without the very thing that has kept me warm and living all these years?_


	12. Chapter 12

**XII**

_12 December- I am horribly tired today. My walk yesterday has given me a dreadful cold; Mrs Lowe has been nursing me all morning. It’s only worsened my mood- now I have the foulest feeling of being stuck inside one’s own head, never mind one’s room- yes, I am still trapped in here. Father lets Mrs Lowe bring me food, but I am denied any other contact with the outside world. I’m almost glad of it- I think I will drive any visitors away with my misery. My h and s hakes; I am m u c htoo tried tired to write much mor e. Goodnight_

_-_

_2 nd January, 1914- I am sorry I have not written for so long. To stop writing is really very dangerous; I feel as if I have lost my mind these last few weeks, as if time no longer works the way it used to, as if my whole life is a dream! But I really have been quite sick- and quite sad, indeed._

_Three weeks have passed since Matthew left us (I still will not say “died” as everyone else does; I refuse to) and yesterday, a funeral was held at the chapel on the hillside. It was a fitting day for a funeral, as by now the snow has all melted, and left the ground green and highly saturated; the village green squelches underfoot and the surrounding farmlands are running with silver water. It rained heavily, with the droplets falling straight down in the absence of the wind, and I felt as if the whole world was mourning him with us._

_A procession consisting of almost all of Ingleton came from our house to the churchyard, all wearing black and with faces stained in grieving. Bunches of flowers abounded, and amongst the crowd I saw the families of Ursula and Irene, and our beloved friends the Wolstenholmes- Tess has not seen me since my cooping up in the house, and I was pleased to see her, though I wished it had not been on this most melancholy of occasions. I was not so pleased to see Christopher. I still blamed him for my dismissal of Matt; I felt that if he had not advised me to ignore my feelings, none of this would have happened._

_It was a simple affair, really; a short and quiet service in the chapel that was almost tragically amusing in its irony, considering Matthew’s opinion of religion; if he had been there, I thought he might be snickering, or pulling stupid faces at the priest, or whispering in my ears; at the time, his stupid pranks had annoyed me. Now I missed them desperately. Before I knew it, I had begun to cry silently in the pews. I barely even realised it; I barely realise anything these days, for my head is stuck in some other reality, I think- and I denied Mrs Lowe’s offer of tissues, because I didn’t know why she was offering them._

_Outside, there was no open grave, but just a lonely headstone that was conspicuously bare of lichen and moss; in the dark rock were the words I hated more than anything else, cut finely and yet so hideous to read that I wanted to retch:_

This stone commemorates

MATTHEW BELLAMY,

Adopted son of William Howard,

Taken in by him in 1903,

And taken from us cruelly by a storm in 1913.

He leaves behind a beloved brother.

May the Lord preserve his soul and those of the people he has left behind.

_‘Brother’! It seemed such a paltry term to throw around; I was not his brother! I was so much more to him- and yet the exact meaning of what I was to him didn’t seem to have a word to describe it. I hated to see the inscription; it made it all so horribly real. The last funeral of this kind I had attended was my own mother’s, and I was not much more than a baby then- her grave couldn’t have been more than a few yards from Matthew’s. Father visited that, too- I think he was sorry that he had allowed the child he’d named for her disappear, and that he’d somehow let her down in that. I wanted to comfort him, truly I did- but Father is becoming more and more unapproachable. He is drinking a lot these days- Mrs Lowe does try to discourage him, but he will not listen._

_The flowers were laid around the stone, and people were careful not to stand in the ground at its foot - even though no body lay there. When the swarm of black mourners had begun to dissipate, and only a handful of the closest friends of our family remained, I determinedly strode across the little stretch of wet grass, my hair threaded by rain without an umbrella to shield me, and knelt by the gravestone. I heard someone shout at me to keep off the burial ground, but I ignored them. I’m sure Matthew wouldn’t have minded._

_The rock felt moist and cool; I let my fingers run over his name softly, as if it was his own face I caressed. I said nothing, but moved some of the bouquets aside and leant against the stone, now unable to tell whether the moisture on my face was rain or tears. I closed my eyes in a form of meditation and drank in the wet morning air; I felt unusually serene, and thought to myself that maybe his spirit sat beside me- Oh my, I must try to stop doing that. It is really quite a morbid thing to do._

_“Dominic?” A voice called, from somewhere in the darkness, and I opened my eyes, my eyelashes splattered by rain. The other mourners were gone, probably disturbed by my trespassing onto the apparently sacred ground, yet through the misty veil of drizzle in the air came a tall, strident figure and I recognised the concerned, benign expression as that of my dearest friend. Yet, I wasn’t particularly in the mood to speak to Christopher._

_“Oh, go away,” I sneered, wanting him to leave me alone to my thoughts and the grave. “It’s your fault all this happened anyway.”_

_He frowned. “You’ll get in trouble if you stay on that ground.”_

_“Leave me alone, Chris!”  I cried with exasperation. “Just let me stay here a little longer!”_

_He sighed irritably and instead of berating me any longer, descended to lean on the side of the stone with me. We sat in a soft silence, save for the mild hum of the endless rain, and eventually he turned to converse with me. “Why do you say it’s my fault, Dom?”_

_I crossed my arms and turned away from him. “You told me to find someone else.”_

_“What!” He exclaimed. “I told you to be careful. How on earth did that kill-“_

_“Don’t say it.”_

_He frowned simply. “I don’t see what that has to do with it.”_

_I put my head in my hands. Oh, what a regrettable turn of events- now I’d have to tell him what I’d done! “I ignored him. I was horrible to him. He told me he loved me,” and then I suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, as if my lungs had shrivelled away, or like I was standing on that cold white moor again, with his pleading eyes staring into mine, and the cursed words hovering in the icy air once more- and I shrank away into myself, not wanting to be seen anymore, not wanting to exist. I sobbed awfully until a warm hand patted my shoulder soothingly and the constant ache in my stomach began to recede a little. Eventually, I regained enough breath to complete my confession. “I told him I was ashamed of him. I was so vile to him, Chris!- and I think he went out into those moors that night with the intention of dying!”_

_The hand withdrew from me at the words, and I turned to see my comrade’s mouth quivering, slightly open, and cheeks dun with shock. As if he couldn’t have expected such cruelty from me!- no, I am an abhorrent person. I don’t have a clue why people are so nice to me- and rubbed his temple, staring towards the ground. “Dominic- oh_ God _. Believe me, I never thought- I never thought anything like this could have happened.”_

_I gulped back a few stray tears. “Do you see that it’s your fault?” I choked bitterly._

_His eyes narrowed. “It isn’t my fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault. It’s just a terrible, terrible thing, Dominic! Why should it be anyone’s fault?” And in that instant I realised that he was not at all responsible for what had happened- no, it was my interpretation, my feelings, my rash actions that had carried out this demonic work. I had just been trying feebly to pin the blame on someone else, to stain someone else’s hands with the blood on mine._

_“Oh, I just want it all to be a bad dream. I wish-I wish I was dead.”_

_He grabbed my arm and held it firmly, in a way that was roughly reassuring. “Don’t say that. I’m sure that you will feel better- it will take a while, I know- but surely, it must improve at some point. He scratched his head dumbly, and I felt that though he tried his best, he couldn’t possibly grasp the enormity of the grief that I felt. He squinted at me, as if there was something in my countenance that he had only just spotted, and I squirmed under his vision, suddenly feeling quite exposed. “Dominic?”_

_“Yes?” I replied weakly._

_“Do you still love him?”_

_My skin tightened in alarm, and I felt all my hairs stand on end- this was a subject we had promised never to mention again! Why was he unearthing it now, when its subject was thought by all to be beyond any of our reaches? “What?” I gasped, shocked and offended at once. “Why are you asking me that? I’m with Tess!”_

_He set his jaw, and his mouth formed a firm line. “Answer the question, Dom. Are you still in love with him?”_

_I stood, about to make my getaway, but his arm held me fast. I tugged, yet saw he would not release me until I gave him some kind of answer, so I blurted-“I can’t love him-he’s dead! And why does it matter, anyway? Even if I did, it won’t bring him back. It’s too late for me to say sorry-“_

_“It matters to me because I cannot bear to see my sister be with someone who does not love her.” His voice was low and mildly threatening in his deep and leonine grumble. I felt rather small and powerless. Chris has great capacity for ferocity, and yet uses it sparingly- I must have angered him greatly to uncover its fearsome face._

_“Tess? I love her, of course I do-“_

_“They why won’t you say you don’t love Matthew?”_

_I had no answer for that, and yet-I still couldn’t say it. I wish, I wish with all my heart that I could just tell the truth! And yet- some devil strikes my lips with fire when I try.  But there was no use lying now- I had remained silent too long to cover my secret. “You know me too well-Oh! Chris, what am I going to do?” I sobbed, falling to my knees before him.  “How am I going to live without him?”_

_His face softened, and he knelt beside me so that we were once again at the same height once more. He shrugged his shoulders sadly and looked up at the lachrymose sky. He seemed almost as burdened with regret as I was. “Dom, I know that my advice failed you in the past, but find it in your heart to trust me now. You have to forget him.”_

_I was filled with horror at the thought. “Forget him!” I spat. “Don’t be stupid, that’s impossible, and a sin to boot!” I almost got up and left again in disappointment, but he tugged me back again and grabbed my head between his hands, looking straight into my eyes._

_“I know that, Dom- but you must try.” He rumbled, a tone of sadness stirring in his throat too.  “You can’t dwell on thoughts of the dead. It will make you neglect everyone else, and for what cause? Love my sister. Devote everything to her. I know you will never forget him completely, but do this favour for all of us, Dominic- you must promise me that you will try!”_

_The tears streamed from my eyes, but his words shone in my mind- I could not deny that their message rang true. What would I achieve from my mourning now? I would only make matters worse. And so I have tried to return to the realms of sanity. I am writing here as I used to, when times were good. I have resolved to do all in my power to put Matthew out of my mind. He is lost. The others in my life who I love live on. If I can continue now, push through the guilt that has darkened my life, then perhaps they can still be saved._

_-_

As much as I vowed to protect the family of mine that remained, it was in the ensuing months that another tragedy would begin to develop in the household. My father’s grief was furious; he drank heavily, and over the course of a few weeks he became an old, haggard man. His generosity and whimsical demeanour which I had adored as a child were stolen from him. We wanted the company of the father we knew, not the man he had changed into. He was grumpy and inexorably lazy; he neglected his work and his responsibility for me. Mrs Lowe soon became a substitute, tending to me as if she were my real mother- partly out of love, partly out of a wish to be away from William’s violent temper.

We all wanted so much to help him, but none of us were brave enough to confront him about his worrying habit. Some days, he would not even leave his bedroom. When he was not blind drunk he would summon a lawyer to the house, and me and Tess would eavesdrop through the door; we were alarmed to hear talk of debts, debts upon debts, which my father owed. Luckily, my uncle, who lived a rather more sustainable lifestyle, would frequently bestow us with gifts of money to pay off whatever looming debt we suffered from.

Doctors and lawyers visited alternate weeks; accountants and attendants of every kind conversed in hidden rooms with my father, and yet we never spoke to him. And then, that July, the news began to trickle in from the village; first in rumours and schoolyard tales, in opinions columns in the newspapers and speeches from people in the streets who seemed strangely impassioned by some violent energy- and then, on the radio, where that voice that made us all think of London and the faraway places beyond our homes rattled in the parlour, and my unusually sociable father grimaced in his armchair, and Mrs Lowe stood shuddering in the corner, quite sobered by the news, and I and Tess held our quivering hands together, only just understanding the significance of what was happening.

The peace we had loved in this land was about to be shattered its appearance forever altered. Our fair country was at war.


	13. Chapter 13

**XIII**

 

My father had had suspicions about the situation in Europe for months; we had always dismissed his rambles as some nonsensical stuff brought on by the drink, and quite suddenly the threat had become very real. War was a word I had never really used very often, and now it was in common circulation. There was suddenly less food to go around, less money to go around, less _people_ , for we’d see the young male population dwindle before our eyes and they bequeathed their service to the Kingdom. I longed to go; I was afraid I would be called a coward, or miss out on some great, mind-broadening experience, but alas, I was too young, and I even if I had had sufficient years to do my service, I had a responsibility for Tess and my father that would have persuaded me to stay.

What we read in the newspapers about the war was dreadful in the extreme; so many men slaughtered by a warfare that was only just developing, so many sons, husbands, brothers and fathers who would not be returning to their families! The loss of many friends who had ventured out from the village only worsened my father’s deep and irreparable sorrow- his drinking worsened, and soon it was clear that he was making himself woefully ill. There was a time when I and the remaining housemates looked at each other with glassy and soulful eyes and understood, without uttering a word, that this was one disease that my father would not be recovering from.

I was afraid, more afraid than I’d ever been in my life, of my father’s death. In losing him I would lose the only remaining member of my immediate family, and I would be the only Howard left to inhabit Saphney Hall, and therefore the master of the house. But at this point, I was not even sixteen. I still felt like a child; I felt it would be too much to have such maturity thrust upon me so early, and I feared I would buckle under the pressure of following in my father’s footsteps.  But the weeks charged onwards; the lawyers continued their ominous visits, having weighty discussions with the ailing man, quite painfully obvious that they were debating what to do with his possessions once his time on the earth was over.

I take some small comfort in that my father’s death was no shock. I was with him in his final hours; I sat beside his bed, and watched the old and weak body shudder and heard his pained, confused whimpers; I held the purplish fingers in mine and tried to speak soft comforting words to him, and yet he would not look at me. I think something else distracted him as his agony began to overpower him- something in the corner, something I could not perceive, yet made itself visible to him. At first I was confused, utterly bewildered by what on earth could hypnotise him so- until one more hoarse breath struggled through the discoloured, wrinkled lips.

“Eleanor?” He croaked, before closing his eyes softly, his chest heaving alarmingly, and then the vibrancy suddenly evaporated from his cheeks, and he fell back into his covers. It was remarkably quiet and still after that. Nothing in the house seemed to make any noise at all. I broke the news to Tess and Mrs Lowe, and they greeted it with no wails of grieving, nor any tears, simply a sigh of relief that my father’s suffering, and in some way ours, was over.

The funeral was a small affair with only a few guests, for many had died, gone to war, or drifted from my father in his distant final months. In honour of his final word, we buried him right next to my mother. I noticed the last grave we’d visited, too; Matthew’s headstone was still so finely cut and untouched, but I found myself struggling as to whether that was a good thing or not. In one way, it reminded me of how little time had passed between the two most devastating events of my life- it was little more than a year- and at the same time, I loathed the thought of the stone growing old and worn. I did not want that memory to fade into the past and become disfigured and lost in the process. I wanted what I had left of Matt- what survived in my head- to remain sharp and clear.  But then I would remember Christopher’s wise words and remind myself that the only way the pain would fade would be if I allowed the dead to move on, and out of my reach.

Back home, one of my father’s lawyers addressed us with his will, which he had helped to compose in the weeks before his death. The results were as such; the majority of his estate, including the house and surrounding lands, would fall to me; a small percentage of his savings would go to Mrs Lowe for her loyal service; and he had two dying wishes, which he commanded must be fulfilled and under no circumstances ignored; I was to marry Tess as soon as we were both old enough, and I was to be exempt from whatever matters of conscription the army enforced. I was, under my father’s edict, forbidden to join the army.

Not all of my friends were quite so lucky to escape such a fate. Many of older boys in my school were now departing to lend their hands to the fight- including Christopher. It was 1916- Tess was sobbing as he left, his bags packed and the car waiting for him, and I saw an intensity burn in the depths of those eyes he shared with her. He said nothing to me, but I knew he was pleading me to do whatever I could to carry out his instructions. I did not know if he would ever come home; all I could do was watch and wave and hope to God that I would not lose another precious childhood friend, whilst I remained alive to bear the brunt of the sorrow.

I had lost my father, yet gained some freedom- I was liberated from my containment in the house, and could once again roam on the moors as I had longed to- yet I found myself unwilling to traverse those rocks and marshes. There were memories dormant in the grasses and the trees and the air; memories that would stir from their sleep if I dared disturb them and memories I did not want to face again, for they were too wretchedly happy. I knew that I would mourn for lost days if I tasted but a breath of the heathery wind, and forget whatever happiness I was still lucky enough to keep today.

I kept my composure for long enough, and eventually, the one spark of hope that had illuminated my future came into view.

-

Dominic Howard’s diary, 1918-

_13 th May-_

_Tonight I feel as I should be filled with joy. I am a married man now. I have married an incomparably beautiful woman. We couldn’t have hoped for a more wonderful ceremony. And yet- here I am, on the very edge of sleep, alone in my bed. Something toxic has altered this perfect day, something that chills me to the bone- I think there are powers at work that I do not, cannot, understand!_

_It is such a contrast to last night- then I was also deprived of sleep, but from happiness, not fear! I couldn’t stop imagining how Tess would look in the morning; what a beautiful bride she would be, of all the loving years and moments of bliss we would share after this most blessed of days. She had been staying at her mother’s to prepare, and it wasn’t until I entered the church, with the silvery light of the morning shimmering in the vibrant windows, and a host a friends and family waiting in the pews, that I set eyes upon the bride . I had never stood at the altar, and I was overcome with emotion and gratefulness that I had been given this day, this opportunity, in the midst all of the woes I had suffered, to alleviate all that had hurt me in my life. I was certain that today would finally put the curse of the past behind me._

_As I attempt to lull myself to sleep, I hold the image of my bride in her course down the aisle in my mind- it is such a soothing and sweet sight that it helps me to ignore the ill fortunes that have befallen me. The light illuminated her, and she was like an angel; burning with a glorious, heavenly light, adorned in white lace and with great bulbous pearly roses threaded into her dark hair. I could have wept for her beauty! I wished so much that Matthew, and Father, and Christopher could be here, to see this day- well, I do not know if all of them would have shared our happiness- but I shall simply say that there were too many seats unfilled where lost loved ones should have sat._

_The ceremony was only a humble thing; I was impressed enough by the thought of wedding such a magnificent, awe-inspiring woman, and I felt I needed nothing- no grand party, nor hunt, nor anything more to complete my expectations. I swept her up in my arms, and carried her from the chapel and across the blushing golden fields of summer, the very air simmering with the pleasant heat and lazy, buzzing flies, to the Hall, the place where our future together lay- or rather, should have lain._

_At present I feel a frightful doubt; something is wrong, unignorably wrong, and I cannot shake the feeling. I have made some terrible mistake, I know it! And all I can do is hope that my error does not lie in marrying Tess. I will relate in a while the nature of the nightmarish event which has set my mind ablaze, and renders me an insomniac now-but first I must describe how the evil that has crept into my life began._

_As we left the churchyard, my arms began to ache, and with a laugh I lowered Tess to the floor and urged her to run on a little without me. The heat had intensified during the wedding; I was now at risk at roasting alive in my suit- God knows how hot she must have been in that grand white gown!- and the desire to rest, hopefully not alone tonight, begged me to slump into bed and put this marvellous day to a sweet and serene end. I watched as she flitted down the pathway, and from a distance, she giggled at my sluggishness from the doorway.  I gave a coarse laugh back to her, my voice rugged with fatigue, and waved._

_At that moment, I turned to stretch my sore legs, and caught sight of someone standing in the graveyard amongst the softly waving yellow grasses, parched by the near-drought of this intense and challenging summer. On any other occasion, I would not have spared such a loner a second glance, but there was something very oddly familiar about him. He was short, and shadowed by the chapel, and where his arms made small, barely perceptible movements, I could see that he was extremely slight in his figure._

_I was strangely mesmerised by the man- I say man, yet he couldn’t be much more than a boy. His head was hung in a posture that spoke of despair, extreme despair, and I wondered who it could be that he mourned for. My heart went out to him, and I felt guilty that I should be so happy at a time when he was missing someone obviously so important to him. But then a sense of suspicion came over me, for I noticed that the grave he stood over, looking as if his soul had been stolen from him, was in such a position that it must have been Matthew’s._

_I was petrified; who was this boy? He must have only been a small child when Matthew passed away- how could he know who he was? And how could he stand and look on so sadly at someone that he could never have known well when he was alive? I almost staggered backwards when he raised his head to stare directly at me, and something very pale and very like my brother gleamed like a flame in his eyes, accompanied by a sour and accusing frown!_

_“Dominic?” I heard, and panic flooded into me, for I thought at first that the spirit of Matthew was calling me from the netherworld, and spun to flee- but when I turned, I saw Tess trotting back up the path towards me, a little frown of worry on her perfect doll’s-face. “Dominic, my love- are you quite alright?”_

_I panted in relief- “God, of course I am,” I grinned, holding her little hands in mine. “I thought- I just thought I saw someone watching me.”_

_Her eyebrows lowered with a curious smirk, and she looked past me into the churchyard. I nudged her anxiously. “Is he still there?”_

_She looked back to me, and turned her head at an odd angle questioningly, the sunlight sparkling in her rich irises. “Who?”_

_I swung my head round to look behind me. Sure enough, there was not a soul in the graveyard. Like a fool, I decided to forget the whole business and return home, completely unaware of the further horrors that would await me there._


	14. Chapter 14

**XIV**

_The evening set in with a soft rosy light; the moths danced around the streetlights pleasantly, and the stifling heat began to ebb away, giving way to gentle and comforting warmth. The barren cliff-faces glowed golden as the sun began to die, and the scent of heather was on the wind, which fell smooth as silk-I could not have asked for a more beautiful wedding night! Or a more beautiful bride, for that matter. I waited for her in the parlour, watching the light fade from the windows, and she crept down the stairs light-footedly in a very pale pink nightgown, an oil-lamp in her hand, and with a face that was illuminated by affection._

_I rose from my seat, in awe of her beauty. Wordlessly, I beckoned her, and she sailed over like some glamorous spectre through the dim evening light, her eyes quivering like autumn leaves, her lips an enticing reddish-pink and slightly parted. She batted her eyelids softly, and an overwhelming tide of attraction to her swept over me. How long had I waited for this night? My heart fluttered in my chest- the boy in the graveyard was forgotten, all my sadness was swept away- for now there was only Tess, my Tess, my wife- and I believed that in her lay the antidote to the poison which had tainted my life. Slowly, I reached to touch the side of her face in admiration, and bent down to kiss her warm and welcoming lips._

_Her arms wove up to hang onto my shoulders; those dark eyes fell closed as her kiss blossomed sweetly on my mouth. Such ecstasy grew and radiated from my chest! Such peace I felt now, compared to the fright and the stress I knew from my past! I felt sure that there was no way any evil could harm us now- we were safe in each other’s embrace, cocooned by happiness and tranquillity- I felt at once that it was time we went to bed, and so I led her upstairs. We tiptoed to my father’s old room, which he had once shared with my mother; up until now, it had been empty, as I had remained in the old room which had been Matthew’s also. As we passed that room, I remember a small tingle of excitement brightening my heart, for one day perhaps our children will sleep there! She daintily perched on the very corner of the bed, her hands smoothing down the undulating ripples of the sheets temptingly, and then looked at me with an inviting smirk and a deep, charming breath._

_I trembled; there was a bizarre nervousness in the newness of the situation (for I had not yet known a woman’s love), and I was somehow afraid that I would disappoint, or perhaps even fail completely, at my duty as a husband. But I clenched my fists and inhaled sharply; this must be a struggle every newlywed must endure. Part of me suspected that the shadow in the graveyard had put me off somewhat, stirred some uncertainty in my core, but I dismissed the thought- it was simply nerves. What harm could there be in the arms of a woman so sweet?_

_By now the sun had set completely; the room was blue with dusky light, and I mustered my courage to take a step towards her. Her smile only widened, as if amused by my hesitation, and I found myself smiling back courteously. Another step, and then another, as my shyness began to fade into transparency like thawing ice, and soon she was just a few inches from me; I lifted my hand, and she was close enough for me to stroke her hair with delicate fondness. She looked to me with such yearning that my breath caught in my throat; I stroked her chin with one thumb, and then bent down on one knee so that we were face to face. Her breath was warm and pleasant as a summer breeze on my cheeks; I moved to kiss her, and was within an inch of her exquisite lips when a sudden chill flooded into the room and froze me in me place._

_“Dominic?” She said, but her voice did little to move me. I felt as if I had been suddenly petrified, completely unable to shift my body any more. A strange and troubling fear began to build in my chest, which grew to a silent panic, internalised within my unmoving form; Tess must have noticed that something was wrong, for the expression of desire and admiration had fallen from her face, leaving behind a raw, cold concern, and eyes which searched my face for some kind of answer I was unable to give her. My breath shuddered out of me; I swallowed, and attempted to approach her again, but then- God help me! It is so hard to even think of now- it is so horrible- my eye caught something in the corner of the room, where all the shadows gathered in some infernal, nightmarish nest, where they bred and multiplied like foul spirits- the very boy from the graveyard stood, the moonlight glancing off his mournful features, his eyes gleaming viciously at me!_

_I shrieked and staggered back from Tess; I stumbled, falling to the floor and crawling back into the opposite corner, a cold sweat drenching me, blinding terror seizing my entire body. I felt out with one arm for the door, seeking some kind of escape-but never taking my eyes off that ghostly figure eyeing me from the corner, lest he make some attempt to hurt me in the fraction of a second he was out of my sight! Tess flew from the bed to hold me, and rushed her fingers through my hair to try to pacify me, to no end. “Dominic, are you alright?!” She sobbed, affected too by my horror. “What- what’s upset you, my love?”_

_I could say nothing at first but raise my shaking hand to point at him, panting in unsuppressed dread. It was the very image of Matthew, and he hadn’t aged a day since I last saw him on the icy slopes of Ingleborough, his eyes still glinting with tears at my hateful words! But I couldn’t utter one word now; I was too paralysed by my ordeal to make a single sensible sound. Still he stared! It was hideous- there was still ice encrusted in his hair and clothes, and his skin was becoming blue with cold- I realised that I was seeing Matthew in his last moments on the earth before he must have frozen to death!_

_Eventually I managed a few babbling syllables: “T-there’s a boy!” I howled. “A ghostly boy, right there, Tess! Can’t you see him?”_

_She paled with fright and her lovely lips quivered horribly. “There’s nobody there, Dom. It’s just us.”_

_A fresh wave of tears choked me and my stomach churned; was this how I was to be punished for my sins? To see my dead brother whenever I tried to take any pleasure from life?! I tried to calm myself, but no matter how much I tried to push away my absurd cowardice, the figure in the room did not fade, nor take his leave; those blue eyes pierced my very soul! I knew I could not be with Tess tonight, and so I have retired to my old room to try and get some peace. I write with my face turned towards the pillow now, refusing to look outwards to the rest of the room- I can’t bear to see that terrible face again! I feel as if he is following me everywhere I go! I wish I could go to sleep, and yet I do not think I can escape him even there!_

_I pray that this is just a temporary hallucination. I hope to God that this is all something conjured by my imagination- it cannot be a real ghost- such things are impossible! I need sleep; I can feel the want of it aching in my bones, but I am too afraid to close my eyes. Maybe if I do have just a moment’s rest, I will wake to a pleasant world again tomorrow morning, and I can make up to Tess for my conduct this evening. If not, then- God knows what I shall resort to doing. I am for now trapped in a waking nightmare!_

_-_

_27 th May- It has been two weeks now since the apparition manifested in the house. I thought at the time that it would eventually pass; but unfortunately, Matthew’s presence is one I am starting to become used to._

_He is everywhere I go. He lurks in corners and watches me with eyes that remind me of my crime. I have not yet spent one night with Tess, because with that image of his constantly pursuing me, I cannot find room in my heart to love her. The promise I made to Christopher is at risk of being broken- I cannot love his sister, for the memory I tried to bury has crawled out from the ground of its own accord. I have resorted to desperate measures today to try to exorcise the ghost that follows me. I woke again this morning to see him staring back at me from the foot of the bed, and in furious frustration, hurled my sheets at him, hoping that when they fell, he would be gone. But he remained. He always remains. I decided that enough was enough; I would take no more of this nonsense- I needed to put Matthew to bed forever, resolve our unfinished business, or I knew that the guilt would eat away at me until my dying day. I have attempted to speak to the ghost before; he never responds, and then I feel quite humiliated for trying to speak to something that is not really there. I have no other representation of Matthew to converse with other than the stone that bears his name, and that was where the banshee stood when I first set eyes upon him!- I resolved that that was the place where the deed would be done._

_I left the house in simply a shirt and trousers; I didn’t bother with a coat. I think Tess and Mrs Lowe tried to speak to me before I departed, but they were in some other world, irrelevant to my current purpose, so their voices drifted away into the back of my mind. The morning was wet and heavy, like the day of the funeral, I thought, as I trudged in the thick, cloying mud to where the hilltop chapel lay._

_The closer I came to the sacred place, the more emotion began to build within me, and by the time I had entered the graveyard, there were already salty tears tickling my cheeks. I stumbled in and out of the graves in search of him, not caring where I stepped, until nestled amongst marshy reeds and strewn with fronds of ivy, I came upon his grave._

_I remembered how I had never dreamed that I would visit his grave when we were children. I had always envisioned that I would die before him- I was the more homely, civilised child, the one who hated the rain and caught more colds, the one who would always trip on the icy rocks in winter- he was the one who should have survived, not me! My situation, my very existence, seemed absurd and pointless; I did not deserve to live, not after what I had done to him, stolen such a life from the earth! I fell to my knees, tore the creeping green strands from the stone, and read his written name for the first time in years, realising how much I wished he could be here, and how much I hated the false and useless ghost that had taken his place!_

_The creature had followed me, I noticed, and he stood behind me, watching my mourning with an unimpressed frown. I narrowed my eyes at him angrily._

_“There you are, in spirit but not in body.” I growled, and turned away from the spirit, letting my face rest against the cool and comforting stone. That was the real Matt- not the ghastly image that dogged me now._

_“Oh! Matthew, if you knew,” I cried. “if you knew the suffering I have undergone, you wouldn’t have done such a reckless thing as run away!” And the knife of denial gouged at me again, for I knew full well who was really to blame. “But it’s not your fault, I suppose- it’s mine. I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, I never intended this- you were right! You were always right- it is because of me that you’re gone, and all your sorrow, all my grief, it is all founded on the basest of lies. Forgive me, Matthew- please, God, release me from this nightmarish state! This punishment is more than I can take, and I fear it shall destroy me!”_

_I looked around me. There was nobody to observe my lament but the pale and feeble ghost, and he was wandering about, looking rather uninterested. I cursed under my breath. How I hated that fiend! How he reminded me of the jealous, hateful thing that Matthew could so often become! But hate had parted us- I bade it leave me, and did all I could to think adoringly of him.  I looked mad enough already- and though I know it must have seemed the strangest of things to do, I kissed the name on the stone tenderly._

_“What can I do, my dearest Matthew, to end this agony?” I murmured. “I cannot fully repent, not when you’ve already departed this sweet world, for the evil I’ve engineered cannot be undone. But perhaps-!” An idea had struck me, one which could truly banish the demon-if I obeyed the heavenly virtue of honesty, then maybe God would pity me and let the both of us rest in peace!_

_“Oh my Lord, please, let it work- perhaps this haunting will cease at last if I am honest. I loved you, Matthew!”_

_The spectre halted in his aimless steps, and turned to stare at me with sudden interest. Hope burned in my heart- was this the answer? To expel this horrid truth? I did not care who heard me- freedom from the curse was in sight! “You always were the master of my heart, ever since we first met,” I bellowed, my voice beginning to echo across the valley gloriously. “And I have forsaken you- see how I have paid the price! I cannot love, cannot live without you, and I am crushed every day by my regret. If you still live, somewhere on this blasted earth, I beg you to return to me- and if you are dead, begone to whatever underworld awaits you! Only do not linger here, where you bring me nothing but endless torment!”_

_The spirit glared at me. I shook with a mixture of fear and anger. “Go!” I cried. “Leave me! I told you the truth- now leave me alone! Isn’t that what you wanted?!”_

_I was met by nothing but a mischievous, infuriating grin. I was silenced by rage, and began to cry out my anger in the midst of the muggy air, screaming nonsensical epithets to send him away, but I could not- I could not even strike him, for he would disappear and reappear elsewhere whenever I came close. I was only stopped when arms suddenly grabbed me from behind and forced me to turn from the phantom- I yelped in shock, but was met with my wife’s face and worried murmurs. She begged me to come inside, asking me what the matter was, but I pushed her away and thundered back to the house alone._

_This is worse than I can imagine. I have tried everything- nothing will make him leave me! I don’t know what to do anymore- now things are worse than before, because his demonic smirk fills me with poisonous loathing, and I cannot contain such hatred when I am supposed to be in love with my wife. I think I am beginning to succumb to true insanity- I have borne this guilt and grief for so long that I am starting to crack under the pressure! Nobody’s presence will cure me, nor will any amount of food or rest- all natural pleasures are denied to me. All I have left to cling to is my writing, and I think that soon even that will deteriorate and become inane to me. I see no end in sight to my torment; for one moment’s rashness, will I have to live a lifetime of horror?_

-

This was to be the most unsettling period I have endured in my entire life. The months to come would cause me to lose my very grip on reality, my very conception of time and space; the ghost did not leave me, and I refused to leave my room, never mind the house. My dreams were even more disturbing than my visions in the day, and Tess became more of a carer than a wife to me, so powerless was my state! I am sorry that she ever had to do such a thing, had to remain loyal to me when I was so awful to her!

I have included some of the writings from the beginning of my illness; after this, I would neglect my writing in lieu of fevered daydreams and much-required sleep.  They were mere scrawlings, nonsensical things created by a madman; when I look back at them, even I barely understand their meanings.

**-**

_There’s someone strange in the mirror. He looks like me but different. He looks too old and sickly. Is it my father? He certainly looks like a haunted man. I wish I could help him but I don’t think I can._

_-_

_I can’t sleep. Matthew is watching me from the corner again. I dreamt briefly tonight (before I woke up feeling eyes on my skin) that there was a hunter out on the fields and that I was sleeping in the grass and he was coming to collect his kills and somehow I was one of the birds he’d shot down, yet was still alive. I could see his feet coming through the grass towards me and I knew I was going to die, and that’s what shocked me awake. I am too scared to sleep again. I want the dreams I usually have back._

_-_

_I’m so angry with Matt why won’t he say anything why won’t he do anything why does he just stand and stare? I hate him I hate him I wish he’d just leave me alone, everyone must think I’ve gone insane to hear how I shout at him I tell him he’s useless I tell him to go away because when I try to kiss him he just tastes like air and he never does the things I want him to I told him I like the Matt I dream about more because at least I can feel him like a real person even if his eyes are wrong and I can’t see his face it’s better than just being watched all the time_

_-_

_I can’t breathe in here. It’s too cold. I feel like I’m lying in snow but it’s summer. There can’t be any snow._


	15. Chapter 15

**XV**

_Charlotte Lowe’s diary, 1918-_

_July the 5 th._

_Bless me! - I use up enough of my energy worrying about the young master, but now I am starting to fear for his wife’s wellbeing too. He is as insensible as usual, but the stress is rather telling on poor Tess, too. This morning a new doctor came as Mister Thomas’ replacement- the man who so swiftly departed the house last month, claiming he could do nothing to help the patient- a Doctor Trassilion, a tan-faced, rounded, and yet faintly handsome man with a notably affable smile. I thought he, if anyone, could cure our Dominic- I think the answer lies not in medicine, but in simply a good friend with whom he can be totally honest._

_I have grown much closer to Tess over the period of her husband’s illness; she has taken the place that perhaps dear Matthew would have taken if he were still with us. Every day she seems more and more weary; it really is cause for concern- I wonder, perhaps, if she regrets her choice in marrying him. I know that I, in the same situation, would lose my patience, but her tolerance of him and her tireless faith in his eventual recovery is something to be admired._

_I was simply dusting the parlour when the mistress was welcoming the doctor; I could hear a certain delicate quality to her voice as it trickled in through the slit of the door, one which I had learnt to associate with her moments of particular sadness, and I knew that once our visitor had made himself comfortable with Dominic, she would be in great need of reassurance.  She was sat in the kitchen when I found her, and by the Lord- you never did see a face so full of sorrow!_

_“Miss Tess?” I asked her, snapping her out of whatever melancholy daydream she was trapped in. “Are you quite alright?”_

_“Oh!” She gasped, suddenly noticing me. “I’m fine- really, Charlotte, it’s absolutely nothing-“_

_“Nothing! Nothing doesn’t put such a frightful look on a face as lovely as yours, Madam.” And that put the smallest of smiles on her face, but it melted away quick as a flash. I sighed softly. “Do tell me now, what’s the matter? Is it Dominic? Has he been nasty to you in one of his turns?”_

_“You’re very perceptive, Charlotte. I’m just…I suppose I’m very afraid that the Doctor will find something really very wrong with him. He’s changed so much from the boy I knew! It’s such a horrible thing to see such a great man degraded, knocked down to a level more fitting a child!”_

_“Is he worse recently, Madam?”_

_“I do hate to say it, but I can’t deny it- this is a new low for him. I tried to keep him company in his room, and whilst he was awake I think he forgot momentarily who I was- he called me a witch, and begged me to leave his room, or he’d tell his father.”_

_“Dear me!” I cried. It sounds all very bizarre, doesn’t it? It is almost as if he has travelled backwards in time, and thinks that he is a child again…something very awful must happen to a man to shake up his mind like that! If William really could see the state his son is in now- oh, it would kill the poor master all over again!_

_“That’s not all. He slept eventually, but he was so restless in his sleep that it was really very distressing for me to bear- at times he would laugh or sigh quite happily, or talk nonsense; then out of nowhere he would sob and wail as if the world around him were ending!” My mistress continued, her voice quiet and yet very fast, as if she were telling a shameful secret. “It was hideous, Charlotte- it was almost too disturbing for me to endure, and I considered returning to my room, but loyalty rooted me to my spot. He seemed so afraid; I didn’t want to leave him alone like that. He woke again,  and I tried to comfort him, but all at once he grew very impatient and alarmed- he got up from the bed and flew to the window, banging on the glass again and again-“_

_I gasped. “Great Scott, whatever for?”_

_An unsettling glow came into my mistress’ eyes, something that shimmered like the fear of a rabbit in the headlights of a car. “He said there was a light…a light on the moors. He said he saw a little yellow flash out in the darkness, like a lantern, and he got terribly excited that there might be someone out there, and forced the window open, nearly falling out! I had to tear him away from the pane to save him. He got very agitated then, and quite angry at me…but I had to explain to him that there was nothing out there but blackness, not even a spark of light- it had all been his imagination playing tricks on him.”_

_I frowned. This was grave news indeed- the worst I’d heard of Dominic’s condition so far. “I’m sorry you had to see such things, Madam.”_

_She breathed deeply and resolutely, shrugging her shoulders back from their hunched posture. “It is alright. It is my duty as his wife to look after him. But- I know so little of what makes him do the things he does, and so I have no idea what he might try next. It does worry me terribly. I’ve tried to make him explain himself, but he’s become so secretive; he doesn’t tell me anything anymore.” She was quiet for a moment when a wily glint came into her eye, and she glanced up at me. “Would you do me a favour, Charlotte?”_

_“I will, Madam.”_

_“I know the Doctor wished for this appointment to be confidential, but I must know how Dominic is feeling. I want to help him. Go to his room and wait outside; take a glass, and listen; tell me anything you can deduce about his condition from what they say.”_

_I nodded. “Straight away, Madam.”_

_I left her in the kitchen, snatching up a glass from the table, and hurried off to where Dominic now roosted in the room he used as a boy; a room he has not left for over a month now. The door was open, and I blushed at the sight of the doctor, worried that he would know my sly motives to eavesdrop, but he did naught but smile and wave to me._

_“Oh, miss, would you be so kind as to fetch me a drink?” He asked from his seat facing the bed. “I think your master is thirsty.”_

_I wandered in a few steps to peep at Dominic. He is quite noticeably ill; his recent refusal to eat has left him pale and gaunt in the extreme; his eyes are bloodshot and glassy with a deathlike pallor, and the sockets are host to frightening violet shadows from the deprivation of sleep; his hair is straw-like and unkempt, and his chin is dark with want of a shave. How any self-respecting human like him can let themselves fall into such neglect, I do not know. He gloured at me with haunting suspicion blazing away in those fevered eyes, and I was suddenly mindful of my task, and nipped out of the room with a swift promise to find him something to drink as soon as possible._

_Once outside the room, where my soul was much less ailed by the choking air of sickness and evil, I stood flat against the wall, and after a few seconds, the door was pulled shut next to me. Quiet as a mouse, I pressed the glass against the door, and listened:_

_“Ah, Mister Howard. How are you feeling this afternoon?” Rang out the earthy voice of the doctor, and I waited anxiously to hear how my master would reply._

_“You aren’t the doctor from last time.” His tone was hostile and sardonic; my stomach churned. I prayed he would not drive out this doctor like he did with the last._

_“I’m afraid not- but don’t worry, Sir.  Thomas has told me most of what I need to know. For the rest, I think I’ll need to speak to you myself.”_

_“Do you know, Thomas was too frightened by me to continue my treatment any longer?” Said my master, almost teasingly- as if he were trying to shake the man off on purpose! “They tell me he had urgent family business, but I know the truth. That’s why they’ve replaced him with you, isn’t it? I don’t suppose you will be tolerating me for very long either.”_

_The doctor cleared his throat, apparently undeterred by his patient’s warning. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Mister Howard. I do pride myself on my understanding. I believe the best way to cure a patient is to offer them sympathy. Are you quite comfortable, sir?”_

_There was no answer, and after another harrumph to fill the godawful silence, our visitor continued; “I think we should get to know each other better. Let’s start with your wife- What can you tell me about Tess, Dominic?”_

_He took a while to respond, and when he did, his voice dripped with untold misery and solemnity. “She is beautiful, isn’t she? I’m so very lucky to have her.”_

_“You’re proud of her, then?”_

_“Of course. Who wouldn’t be?” And then the master’s voice faltered horribly; in my mind’s eye I saw the shake of his body indicating the start of a sob, and I wondered why the thought of his wife could harbour such tragedy for him._

_“Are you quite alright there, Sir? Are you troubled?” Asked Trassilion, the slightest hint of worry in his tranquil drawl._

_Dominic sniffled in reply. “Oh, this is humiliating. I really am sorry.”_

_“Don’t apologise. It’s my job to get to the bottom of this. What’s upsetting you?”_

_“I’m proud of her, God knows it- but I’m sick of pride. I’m sick of nobility and chivalry and manners. I despise it all. I don’t deserve the poor girl. She should never have married a creature like me.”_

_“Oh, don’t say that- I’m sure you’re more than worthy, Sir! But- do tell me-what do you want apart from pride, if you don’t want that anymore?”_

_“You really can’t guess? Thomas mustn’t have told you very much about me at all, then.” My stomach dropped as I listened; I knew all too well what my master’s answer would be. “I want Matthew back.”_

_“Matthew? Your adopted brother?”_

_“We were closer than brothers.”_

_“Has his…disappearance had a great effect on your mentality, do you think?”_

_“Everyone tells me he’s dead. I can’t believe it. I won’t! How can I believe a man to be dead when he is so alive to me? Why, he’s more alive than I am- look at me. I’m a living man. My heart still beats, and yet- I am dead. My life is over. And at the same time, he has a grave for him in the church-grounds, whilst he still walks these halls, and whilst I still see him, every hour of every day!”_

_I froze. Was this the extent of his ailment? What a nightmarish existence! “Every day? Why- Dominic, can you see him now?”_

_“Yes. He’s stood behind you, watching me. That devil won’t stop smiling.” He spat derisively._

_“You suffer hallucinations, then?”_

_“Hallucinations!- God, you think I’m mad, don’t you?” Dominic snarled. “Well, you may be right, damn you- but what’s to say that he isn’t really there, and I’m just the only person capable of seeing him?”_

_“A reasonable point.” The doctor hummed. “Do you dream of him, too, Sir?”_

_“Constantly.” Dominic breathed drearily. “I cannot remember the last night I didn’t see him in my sleep. But- Doctor…?”_

_“Trassilion.”_

_“Doctor Trassilion, the dreams- they’ve become very strange since I became ill.”_

_I swallowed, trying to bury the fearsome possibilities that brewed in my mind. Oh, but the truth!- The truth was so much worse than any of my imaginings! “Strange? How so?”_

_“Well, they’ve never been very normal, but…you will promise that you won’t tell anyone, won’t you? God knows what people would think of me if they knew!...In my dreams, Matthew is in the house again, and instead of simply talking or sitting in the parlour or anything we…we do…other things. Things I can barely believe can have come from my own imagination.”_

_“…Things?”_

_“Oh, don’t make me explain it to you! You know what I mean- you must know what I mean! Things…things I can’t even imagine doing with my wife!”_

_Imagine! Imagine how I must have quaked in my boots at the notions he suggested! I’d never thought he had the potential to think such obscene things; I tried to dismiss it as something created by his sick-mindedness- it wasn’t his own mind- it couldn’t be! If it was…this couldn’t be the same son of William I once knew. If this was really his own thoughts- then Dominic has been changed beyond recognition by some wicked magic indeed._

_“Oh-oh, I think I understand.” The doctor said, after a long and uncomfortable silence. “That is certainly…peculiar. Do you think you…that you’d rather do…those things…with Matthew than with her?”_

_“It’s obvious that I would, isn’t it?” Dominic cried with a stinging desperation. “I’m disgusting, I know. You may leave if you want- there are many people that wouldn’t want to be associated with me anymore after learning what I’ve just told you. That’s what put off my last doctor. I’m beyond help, I think.”_

_“Now, now, don’t say that! You aren’t out of your wits yet, Mister Howard. I’m sure this is simply some form of emotional trauma caused by his disappearance. With proper counselling, in good time, I’m sure this can be remedied.”_

_“But how, Doctor? Every day I feel more wretched than the last. I wait for my dreams, for there I’m happy, but every time I wake up I am sickened by myself and I can’t bear to get out of bed. I feel like there’s nothing waiting for me outside this room, even though I know it’s only making me worse to be trapped in here!”_

_“What makes you so unhappy when you are awake?”_

_“I feel a sordid guilt-I’m forever guilty, because I killed Matthew, almost as if I threw him from a cliff-face myself!” And how that shook me- Matthew was claimed by a storm! What on earth has possessed him to make him think that he’s to blame?_

_“What makes you think that?”_

_“I was so dreadful to him, Doctor. I despise myself for it. He wanted to give me everything and I turned him away, and then he left us, probably thinking that I hated him, when really I-“And once again his words broke off into a wrenching sob and the doctor’s soft words interjected._

_“It’s alright. Do not worry yourself. But, Dominic, do tell me- for I am very concerned about your reluctance to leave your room- have you ever had suicidal thoughts?”_

_At that, Dominic’s grief metamorphosed with alarming speed into a stunning, almost delirious amusement- which seemed horribly misplaced to me. “Ha! No, of course not. I wouldn’t kill myself. I won’t, not whilst there might still be a chance he’s alive. They never found his body! There’s no corpse rotting under his gravestone- he might still be living, somewhere far away- any day now, he might come back, and be here where everyone can see him, and take me away with him- we’ll go away and do whatever we want-”_

_“What if- pardon me, Sir- but what if it was proved that he was dead?”_

_Dominic said nothing for a while, his humour quenched instantly. When he spoke again, there was no emotion in his voice, no life or zeal; simply a terrible, terrible desperation. “Then I’d die, Doctor. Because I don’t know how I would live if he was really gone.”_

_Obviously feeling rather saddened, the doctor spoke up to his patient. “Are you afraid that God will punish you for what you think you’ve done?”_

_“God? Don’t trifle with me. There isn’t a god.”_

_“And why do you think that, Sir?”_

_“Of course not. Why would a god allow such sad, piteous creatures as me to exist? What god would torture its creations as I have been tortured? I am sick to think such a vile being could exist.”_

_“I see.” The doctor resigned quietly, seeing he could do no more persuasion at present. “Oh-it is so cold in here! Is the window open?”_

_“Why, of course!” Dominic beamed._

_“It’s freezing in here! Should I shut it?”_

_“Oh, please don’t! Then he can’t get in!”_

_“Who can’t get in, Sir?”_

_“Oh-oh, of course. Nobody. Shut it if you will.”_

_I suddenly remembered that they would be wanting the water, and dashed back to the kitchen to fill the glass and return to the room. However, Miss Tess caught sight of me, darting at me from the parlour, and tapped me on the arm urgently._

_“What can you hear, Charlotte?” She whispered. “Is the doctor helping him?”_

_I gulped and gazed at her gravely. “Miss Tess, I must hurry now- but to be honest with you, I think he needs a priest more than a doctor!”_

_My mistress gasped and backed away, then nodded to me to approve of my flight. I hurried to the bedroom, where the door was now open and Trassilion waited cheerfully outside for his guest’s refreshments._

_“How is he?” Came a voice from behind me, and I noticed that Tess had followed me from the kitchen. “He’s not too sick, is he?”_

_The doctor gave a faint smile. “I am sure that in time he will heal, but there are some deep emotional scars on his mind that will trouble him for some time yet. We will have to be patient for now; the mind has ways of resolving itself when given opportunity to do so.”_

_“I’m glad to hear it,” She sighed, and a little babbling flowed from inside the room, where Dominic had been left alone to chatter to himself. “Why- what’s he saying?”_

_We all listened in to hear his eerie monologue: “Oh, why must you always be so silent? The things I’d do to hear your voice once more- I’d slaughter men like livestock for that. And by God, look at you- how you shiver! How cold you are- I always said you’d catch your death out there, didn’t I? You fool, you should have listened- come here now, let me comb the ice from your hair, your poor creature.”_

_“Dominic, my love, who are you talking to?” My mistress asked lightly._

_He glared up at us, startled from his talk. His features softened when he saw Tess, and I was glad we had seen him in a moment of lucidity, albeit brief. “A ghost, darling. I think I really am very sick if I’m speaking to things which are not really there.”_

_“Well, Doctor Trassilion seems like a wonderful fellow. I’m sure he’ll have you cured soon enough.”_

_“Cured? Dear God, anything but a cure!” He whined dramatically, falling backwards into his bed with a mock swoon. “The only thing to alleviate my misery is my madness. Leave me to my sickness, because sanity is a very horrible thing. It makes us see the world awfully clearly.”_

_The good doctor left in time, my mistress only keeping up her smile for as long as he was present. She feels her husband’s despair so strongly! This business is tearing her apart. She does love him so- she idolises him, it’s true- and I do not think she can take seeing him damaged like this for much longer._

_I see no significant alteration in my master’s condition. He seems out of his own mind, and convinced he lives in a time which is long-dead; what frightens me most is Miss Tess’ fearful descriptions of his visions of men out on the moor- what demons and villains taunt him from the pitch darkness? What awesome fears strike his poor heart when his madness seizes him? I do hope doctor Trassilion will do him some good; if he cannot, then God help us all!_

_-_

_6 th August-_

_I have just now been woken in the middle of the night- it is all very peculiar- I heard a shout from across the hall, and then from out of my windows, and as I drifted somewhere between dreams and reality, I thought I was having a nightmare, where perhaps goblins were frolicking outside in the garden, or some wicked men were robbing from the house!- But then I came to my senses, and rubbing the sleep-dust from my eyes, happened upon a figure gleaming white on the lawn in the gaping darkness!_

_I gasped; I thought it was a ghost- why, anyone would! But when I rose and rushed to investigate I almost ran headlong into my mistress in the hallway, who had thrown on a shawl and was still in her bedclothes, looking stricken and weary. She gripped my arm firmly and tugged me outside, where to our horrors, stood Dominic- he was wrapped in a cocoon of blazing white sheets, facing away from us and out towards the fearsome moors._

_I called out to him, but my master did not respond. Anxiously, I tiptoed around to see if I could spy his face; when I did, I felt afraid, for my master’s expression was one of pure, maddened glee, such a face I have never seen- as if he were a man possessed!_

_“Oh my God, oh Lord in heaven...can it be? Is that really you?” He cried, speaking not to me, but out into the horrid darkness, as if he could see a figure out there in the fells that eluded the rest of us. He seemed not to see me or Tess, and raised a hand out to reach into the night, like a child reaching for its mother, and I was taken aback to see tears glitter on his wasted cheeks._

_“Dominic, come inside!” My mistress called from the house, rushing to him and holding his outstretched arm. “You shouldn’t be out here in your condition!” I yelled in assent and seized his other hand, doing all I could to lead him back to safety._

_“What- get your hands off me!” He cried roughly, broken away from his mysterious state and thrashing in our grip. “Let me go, let me see him! Let go, you cruel thing!”_

_“Who, Dominic?” My mistress sobbed. “ There’s nothing there!”_

_“Can’t you see him? The man- the man all in black, holding a lantern, on the rocks- Oh Tess, look!” Dominic replied, as wracked by agitation as she was, and panting in desperate, frantic uncertainty. “He’s there, I see him clear as day- he’s reaching out to me! Can’t you see the light?”_

_“Dominic, there’s nobody there. There’s no man. It’s all in your mind- it’s your illness fooling you!”_

_“But…but I see him! I need to go to him, Tess, I can’t stay in this house a moment longer!” He roared, and made another bid to escape- I thought we might lose him to the wild, but I underestimated his wife’s determination. She gripped his waist tight and restrained him, and with me to aid her, we eventually managed to wrestle Dominic back to his lair._

_We had to lock him in, for fear he’d attempt it again. My mistress was in pieces- she wailed horribly and held him very tightly as he sat up in his bed, lecturing her on the ghostly man he claimed to have seen beckoning him._

_“Oh, my love! My poor husband! It’s nothing, my love, please, believe me!” She told him, again and again, but he would hear none of it, looking away from her face and out to the deathly white moon which was all that lit his dismal chamber._

_-_

_3 rd September-_

_I think things are finally looking up for our unhappy couple. Trassilion visited again today, and he said that he was very close to a turning point in Dominic’s treatment, and that he would prefer it if me and Tess were witness to this milestone._

_Dominic, fully dressed for the first time in months, sat upon his lonely bed, frowning at the rest of us as Tess reclined beside him, his hand in hers, with myself stood beside them and the doctor observing from his seat across the room. I was rather unknowing of the doctor’s plan, and wary of what I might now see, but I had no cause for alarm in the end._

_Trassilion watched us all contentedly, and then asked Dominic clearly: “Dominic, sir, is your brother Matthew still alive?”_

_I was afraid that it would send Dominic into a real state, but my master did not react. He simply breathed deeply and addressed his visitor calmly and quietly. “No. He is dead.”_

_“Are you sure you haven’t seen him around?”_

_“I am sure.”_

_“And have you recovered from the shock of losing him?”_

_We all waited with bated breath as Dominic slowly raised his head to meet the doctor’s eyes determinedly. “Of course. It was years ago.”_

_I exchanged a bewildered glance with Tess; Lord above! Has he finally been cured? It was a startling development, and enough to make the both of us weep with joy; it seems at last, on this bonny day, that a gleam of hope is shining in the darkness for the three of us._

 


	16. Chapter 16

**XVI**

_4 th September- _

_My master’s recovery seems inevitable as of this morning. He came downstairs for breakfast this morning of his own accord, impeccably dressed, and ate everything on his plate, with a gracious smile and complete with a soft kiss to his wife’s cheek. To anyone else, such behaviour would be of absolutely no note; but I and my mistress were overjoyed to see the happiness we once knew beginning to glow in Dominic’s cheeks again!_

_We have been hearing good news from the continent as well, of late; apparently our Allies are doing well at Hindenburg. There is word everywhere that soon this dreaded conflict will come to its long-anticipated end- and God knows we will be glad to see our young men return to us when it does. Tess is especially excited over the possibility of seeing her dear brother again; we have been receiving letters from Christopher that are minimal in content but reassure us of his consistent health and happiness. Maybe when he comes back, a fully-recovered Dominic will be here to welcome him home._

_-_

Only a few weeks after my recovery, the people’s predictions indeed came true- the war was over in November that year. I still remember the joy in the air and the parties in the streets; the showers of ticker-tape and disbelieving tears of relief as relatives and friends hugged on doorsteps, the way the ebbing of the summer warmth and light did not seem such a terrible thing that year, for we knew that our darkest hour was coming to an end at last.

Christopher, to our surprise, was home by Christmas. He had not announced his return to us- one day we opened the door to see a familiar, yet noticeably matured, face; one we had waited far too long to see again, beaming back at us, and he was not alone- Christopher had brought back a wife. Her name was Manon, and she was French- a small, sand-haired woman with bright, blushing cheeks and who I seem to remember had a particular habit for observing her husband intently when he spoke, as if every last word he uttered completely entranced her. Her quirky demeanour was one we all felt amused by and endeared to; she fit into our family like a piece of jigsaw, and I knew when I saw them together that she and Christopher were destined for each other.

For two years, our lives were paradise. By the next summer, Christopher was already a father, and he made good use of his father’s farm, taking advantage of the excellent weather to gain an unprecedented yield. We would all go for walks on the lower hills together, our two families, and enjoy the untouched beauty of nature; hunting and fishing and harvesting from the land, living a fabled, idyllic existence. As for Tess and myself, our relationship had never been better- and though it pains me to say it, I doubt it will ever be any better.

As she grew older, I began to notice a new beauty in her that I seemed not to have registered before. I worshipped her; she was my entire world, everything that I existed for. I saw in her my future, my lineage, my happiness- all the dreams I had ever aspired to lived in her, and so a love for her kindled in my heart that, at the time, I swore would never be extinguished. In July, 1921, we discovered to our delight that she was carrying my child.

The woes of the past were long gone; buried under a debris of new happenings and responsibilities and concerns; Matthew was something far from me, simply an echo I heard sometimes fleetingly before reassuring myself that it was only my imagination. I had told myself now that there was no point in missing him, for he was gone; gone forever, never to return to me. I worried about him very little, for soon I would be a father as well as a husband- what fool, in that situation, would linger on a love that was dead? I had everything; love, friendship, and family. I lived a life of satisfaction and what seemed like endless bliss.

But of course, the bliss could not last. It seems it never can last for me. Is it worse, I wonder, to have never known the taste of happiness rather than to have it stolen from you? For sometimes I wish that I had been born into a world of misery rather than endure the loss of the things I loved.

-

_Dominic Howard’s diary, 1921-_

_November 14 th-Tess has not really left her bed much today. She is suffering from some nausea which she’s had before, and the doctor says it’s nothing- simply a passing faintness brought on by her pregnancy which is no cause for worry- but her weakness does frustrate her terribly. To cheer her up, I thought we might invite over her brother and his family for a spot of company. _

_Mrs Lowe had cooked up a roast fit for a king; the fire was roaring, the dogs sleeping in a furry heap in the corner, the simmering glow of the red winter sun as it began to dip this evening- all was as warm and comfortable as could be, and yet- when Christopher arrived, I noticed at once that something was not quite right about him. He seemed dreadfully weary, with eyes red-rimmed and with wells of darkness beneath them; his skin seemed pale and sallow. It was a strange sight; I can barely think of any moment where I have seen Chris so obviously disturbed (and Manon, too, seemed nervous and flinching at every movement) - he was always so unmoveable and strong-stomached- I vowed to myself that I would find out the nature of his fears before the night was over._

_I waited until we had eaten (or rather, until I had eaten- Tess had lost her appetite, and I noticed that our guests seemed rather unwilling to touch their food apart from their little son, who scavenged away like a wolf- the numerous scraps have all gone to the dogs) to question Chris about the business. He seemed unready to answer, his eyes widening in shock, and poor Manon trembled, making the sign of the cross and muttering away some blessing in her native tongue under her breath. I looked to Tess, and saw that she, too, had realised that there must have been some sinister stuff at work to have troubled them to such a degree._

_“Dominic, haven’t you heard?” Christopher began, his eyes still bright and wide, his wife excusing herself and leaving for a moment to seek some repose. “Oh- well, I suppose you are preoccupied, what with being an expecting father and all that- but God, it’s a dreadful business!”_

_I was rather confused, to say the least. I had not heard of any sort of mischief- there was nothing in the newspapers, or to be heard on the street, and I thought perhaps it must have been something of great notoriety for them to say such a thing. I inquired about a spate of robberies that might have sprung up again from the incidence a few months ago, the worst scandal I had heard of in recent times, but Christopher shook his heavy head as if he’d have preferred those crimes to the wicked deed he’d borne witness to._

_“Oh, no- worse, much worse.” He said gravely. “I speak of horrid atrocities being committed on holy ground.”_

_“God…what manner of things?” Tess gasped._

_He seemed in a state of agitation; it took him a while to begin his tale. “I heard about it last night- Manon helps to keep up the chapel, you see- and she was horrified to see that each one of the leaded windows had been smashed in! There were shards of them scattered all in between the pews- it seemed as if someone had had at them with a sledgehammer, or something- and at the same time, they’d battered the crucifix with the weapon, chiselled away at Christ’s face until it was horribly disfigured, and barely recognisable as a man- each one of the hymn books had been utterly shredded, the pages torn and hurled about the place in a flurrying mess… the building was in a state of total desecration!”_

_A surge of alarm swept through me- what terrible news was this? And what mindless vandal could have carried it out? “God almighty! What would possess a man to do such a thing?!”_

_Tess grabbed my arm, and began to look quite faint. “That was where we were married, Dominic! Oh, what an awful shame!”_

_I held her hand reassuringly. “That’s right, Tess! Oh, the culprit must have no respect for his fellow people! What a dog!”_

_“That’s not all, Dom, it gets much worse- there’s a felony quite soberingly close to your heart to tell of yet.” Christopher interjected, holding our attention and renewing our concerns. “Whoever the vandal was…I am sorry, Dominic, but they went to Matthew’s grave...”_

_He allowed me a moment to react with both anger and confusion before he resumed. God! I have put thoughts of him to rest; why cannot this villain do the same? Will he ever have a peaceful sleep?_

_“The ground where his body is meant to be is burnt to a crisp. A farmer reported having seen a fellow in a long dark coat set the grass ablaze and watched his work burning away like a beacon in the night. It’s horrid, isn’t it? The blaze was only quenched when the rain came. And they used the hammer to smash the headstone to smithereens. There’s nothing left there but crumbled rock and charred grass.”_

_I struggled to catch my breath, so intense was my disgust! “And…and no other grave touched?!”_

_“Not a single one.”_

_“What…what a bizarre thing to do! Why would anyone…what would possess someone to do that? He’s been dead for seven years! What business could a wandering villain have with a dead fourteen-year-old? What is this devilry?”_

_“Calm, my love, you’ll work yourself up.” Tess cooed, stroking my cheek. “It’s awful, Christopher! Do they have any clue who could have done it?”_

_“Yes, tell us the devil’s name, I’ll wring his neck myself!” I spat._

_Christopher took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. “They have no name as yet, but I have reason to believe I saw the man with my own eyes!”_

_I sat bolt upright. “What?!”_

_“It’s true- it was early this morning, in fact- I was out getting some wood for the fire, and I saw we had none, so I went to borrow some from a friend’s house in the village. I was on my way back just before dawn- it was a sleepless night, you see, what with this nasty business swirling in my mind- and then-“ He shuddered. “- I saw him. This tall, menacing shadow, perching on a crag above me, silhouetted with the infernal sun blazing in the East behind him! I was struck with a sickening fear upon seeing him- I dropped the logs, so dumbfounded and afraid I was- for if you’d have seen him, you, like me, would have thought that it was the very Devil himself grinning down at me from the fiery sky!”_

_Tess clasped my hand tightly. “Oh, heavens!”_

_“I knew it was him. I knew there was nobody so fearsome in the village- I saw a great dark cloak fluttering behind him as if he were one of the horsemen of the apocalypse! I gathered the logs back and ran, ran as fast as I could back to the house, as I was convinced he was pursuing me with those thin, horrible legs! Why, he reduced me to the foolish horror of a child. But even now, fully awake and with the sunlight gleaming in the window, I am still afraid. I am afraid he has come to enact some hellish vengeance on this town and its people. I do not think this business with the church will be the end of it, and something tells me that this is all wound horribly up with you and your family. Keep your eyes open, Dominic. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of this.”_

_I was struck dumb by his tale. I am irate; I cannot believe that any man would ever do such unreasonable things. It must be some kind of personal offense to me; I am one of Matthew’s only living friends- it must have been to spite me in some way by only taking him further away from me. I curse myself- I really hadn’t been visiting his grave enough recently. In fact- God, the last time must have been in the springtime- oh, how I wish I’d cherished my chance! Now that cad has taken it away from me._

_It has all left me very afraid. I do not know what mysterious force has driven the man; I do not know why he desires to offend and upset me in this way, and I haven’t the slightest clue who he might be. We’ve enjoyed peace for so long, and now it’s been invaded by some faceless cretin who seeks to hurt us for no reason. Once our guests had left, I found myself very sad, quite affected by the loss of my only remaining shrine to my brother, and decided that I would not allow the graves of my other relatives to be neglected as his was._

_I’m not sure why, but I felt compelled to see the lonely grave of Algernon in the woods to the north of the house. I hadn’t been there since his burial; I stole out through the back door, making sure to notify Mrs Lowe in case Tess became lonely and asked after me during the night. It was about nine o’clock when I stumbled upon an unmistakeable little mound in the earth beside the gently sloshing river. It was extremely dark; my torch barely lit a couple of metres before me, and if I hadn’t reacted fast enough, I could easily have missed the hillock and tripped right over it._

_I sat next to the burial place and allowed myself a quiet moment of reflection; I felt quite sombre over the loss of my childhood memories, even the sad ones. I have always despised change in my life- I hate to lose fragments of my life to the jaws of the past- and moments such as this were quite rare. The new dogs were excitable and sociable and beautiful creatures, but they would never be Algernon. Just as no friend I could ever encounter now would ever be Matthew. I rose to my feet with a sigh, and began my sleepy quest for the house._

_As I was beginning to emerge from the mire of shadows that was the woods, I heard something behind me. A gentle crunch; something that was the very sound of a foot on crackling autumn leaves. I stopped, but made no attempt to investigate, dismissing the noise as the movement of a squirrel or the flitting of some woodland bird. But a few steps more, and there was a crack, a horrible splitting noise, which roused my suspicions and, with a considerable amount of caution, I turned to face whoever or whatever might be following me._

_There was nothing. Nothing but the rustle of the trees and the mournful, hungry darkness._

_I walked backwards out of the copse, only turning back to my normal course when I was certain no murderous creature was walking in my footsteps, and I ran, ran to the glowing doorway frantically, for truth be told, I feared for my life. And who can blame me? Who knows what danger might await me out there in the wild, after all this frightening news I’ve had? Something wicked is coming; I can feel it permeating the very air around me. The dogs will not cease in their howling. I’ve never known them be so rowdy, and it cannot bode well- it only deepens my feeling that there is someone watching me, observing every detail of my life, waiting to strike me. Maybe it will be gone tomorrow, but I go to my bed craving the gentle embrace of my wife- for to face this impending doom alone is a dreaded task indeed._


	17. Chapter 17

**XVII**

_15 th November-_

_It has happened. The impossible has happened. How do I begin to retell the enormity of what has occurred this blessed morning? Such a day has filled me with amazement and strange woe; I am still at a loss for words now. This is the day I was never sure whether to fear for or to await with ceaseless patience- and it has been difficult for me to decide my verdict even now it has come._

_The light from the window seemed as pearly as Heaven’s gate when I rose drearily from my bed this morning. There was a dreadful commotion from downstairs- the dogs were still making an unholy racket, which had only worsened through the night- God knows how I managed to get any sleep at all- but now it had reached a deafening peak which rendered me unable to rest any longer. I was stretching out my sleepiness when Mrs Lowe burst into my room, thankfully whilst I was still wearing my nightclothes, with a look of absolute, piercing awe on her face._

_“Master!- Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting your peace, sir- but do get dressed at once. There’s someone here to see you- you won’t believe it, Sir, I swear! Your wife has already spoken with him out on the drive- we were all waiting for you to wake- oh, Sir, it’s the most miraculous news!”_

_I looked at her puzzledly. Mrs Lowe was the unsensitive kind; stalwart and modest to the extreme. She was rarely moved in a way like this. “Who is it?”_

_“I won’t ruin the surprise for you, Sir- just please come downstairs!” She giggled, and vanished from the doorway._

_Feeling compelled to obey, I quickly changed my clothes, leaving the buttons of my shirt a complete pig’s ear but caring very little. I longed to know what magic had descended upon our miserable house this morning to bring such strange happiness._

_I hurried downstairs to hear more shouts of “Dominic! Dominic, sir, get down here- come and see this at once!”- and found Tess waiting for me in the hall, beaming like the sun._

_I grasped her hand and looked under the rim of her broad sunhat. “What is the commotion about- what’s the matter-“_

_I was cut off by a finger pressed to my lips and a sweet peal of laughter._

_“Do my eyes deceive me! Dominic- it’s him, isn’t it?” Asked Mrs Lowe excitedly from the door, pressing a handkerchief to her wetted eyes._

_I approached the door fearfully, not daring to believe what I thought might be out there. But as much as I subdued my imagination, the figure who was steadily making his way up the garden path from an ostentatious black car parked on the street, drifting through the delicate shadows of the old willow’s fronds, was almost exactly as my mind had envisaged him._

_The first thing I noticed was a long black coat; finely made, with a severe cut about knee-height, and a fearsome high collar that brushed his cheeks as if he had stepped from the ranks of some kingly gallantry. The dogs were violently pawing at his firm, thick-heeled boots, swarming around him and mewling like puppies at what must have been a familiar scent, and leaping up to greet him as an old friend. Under his right arm was a package, all wrapped up in brown paper, which he held closely to his side as if it were some priceless artefact. He was not very tall; much shorter, in fact, than I thought he might have been, but there must have been some illusion created by his dress which gave him a commanding, dominant air which belittled the rest of us as if he had towered amongst us anyway. He turned on his heel halfway down the path, waved once briefly at the car, and the vehicle snarled and began to crawl away down the road._

_I suspended my belief. It could not be him- it was impossible- my father said that he must have died- but no, could I deny that sparkle of blue from beneath dark, shadowy brows, even after all these years? My mouth fell open, and my eyes began to sting; I felt winded from dazzling surprise, and when he was just a few inches away I was struck dumb and unable to voice my greetings._

_“Good morning, everyone. Capital day, isn’t it? A wonderful day to see old friends.” His voice purred. It was not anything I would ever have expected to hear him say- yet there was something in the accent, the very texture of the voice, despite being considerably deepened, that was just so wonderfully his. Yet I wanted to strike him for being so irritatingly chipper, for smiling so stupidly when he must have known the sadness we had endured without him! What kind of behaviour was that, when I had died so many deaths without him?!_

_Apparently unfazed by my stunned silence, he turned cheerily to my wife and laid a gloved hand on her shoulder. “Tess! You were beautiful when I left, but I could never have imagined you would ever be so divine! This cannot be that same young girl I once knew. Surely you are a fallen goddess?” Tess laughed, clasping her hands together delightedly and blushing visibly. “Mrs Lowe- oh, how I’ve missed your advice all these years,” Our visitor continued, nodding courteously to the servant, and last of all, his eyes settled on me. I felt something within me stir at the sight of those gleaming eyes, eyes I had only seen in nightmares and hallucinations for years, eyes I had constantly prayed that I would one day see in the flesh again- yet now I was confronted with them, they filled me with tremendous fear._

_“- and Dominic. It has all been very difficult without you. I have never been quite at ease without my more-than-brother, I must say.” His hand came to rest on the side of my arm, feeling as if it charred my skin through my jacket, and he was quiet for a startling, sharp moment. His joviality seemed to wane before me, and I shivered. There was a promise in those icy eyes; something that drowned me in horror._

_“The feeling is mutual.” I said quietly, after a long, intense moment of contemplation._

_“Oh, Matthew- do come inside! It’s a miracle, isn’t it, Charlotte?”_

_“Indeed it is! We all thought you were dead, my love. This is such a happy day- it’s a shame old William isn’t here to see his boy all grown up!”_

_The voices of my wife and servant whirled around me like the wind. I could not comprehend what had just happened; was it all my imagination? It couldn’t be- not after all these years- could it really be him? And somehow, he had slid back into our lives like nothing had changed- but they hadn’t experienced the stifling terror his disappearance had brought me; the unthinkable awfulness that had come with the thought of his death, had they? I was the one unable to feel their sheer joy, for I was too damaged inside to process the possibility of his return._

_Eventually I joined them in the parlour, where Matthew now reclined on my father’s grand old armchair. I took a moment to observe how he had changed; it really was very different from what I would have predicted. His clothes, on closer inspection, were remarkably grandiose; they must be tremendously expensive (but as of yet, his new affluent appearance has gone unexplained), and his hair, unlike the shaggy dark mane from his childhood, was expertly coiffed in an elegant curl above his forehead.  His skin was pale enough to be envied by Georgian noblemen; his jawline sharp and strong, with his angular cheekbones having become very defined by maturity- the androgyny of youth has totally departed from him. He is a man that sits now in deep thought and quiet observation of the world around him, with a comprehensive intuition of what he sees- but soft-spoken and reserved as he might be, he is, no doubt, a man and not a boy._

_My reaction to his transformation was nothing short of fascination. I am shaken by his return but his appearance has become something undeniably marvellous._

_Tess had been speaking to him from beside the fireplace, and upon seeing me broke into a wondrous smile. “Matthew has been telling me so much, Dominic.” She murmured lovingly as she approached. “I can’t believe he’s back, can you?”_

_My breath caught slightly in my throat as I noticed his subtly heated gaze at us from his chair. I wondered if the same insufferable envy he once carried about with him was still a burden he carried. “It’s incredible, darling.” I replied. “I thought I might never live to see this day.”_

_“Charlotte has gone to tell Christopher. Oh, he’ll be ever so pleased!” She grinned. “I will go and fetch a drink for our guest.” And with a swift little kiss to my cheek, she was gone._

_And I was alone with Matthew._

_He stared at me shamelessly from the armchair, unwavering and honestly quite terrifying. An air of danger suddenly seemed to settle around us, lurking in the corners of the room, and I felt sickened, for I knew in that moment that Matthew was concealing something dangerous, something intended to hurt all of us- even though I didn’t know what it was- and I was the only person who knew._

_I put on a mask of bravado, knowing that nothing else would deter him from whatever demonic thoughts were brewing in that mind of his.  “Why did you leave?” I hissed, careful to keep my voice low so that Tess would not be mindful of my hostility._

_He looked surprised. “Excuse me?”_

_How dared he play dumb! He knew very well what I meant, I’m sure of it! “You heard me. If you were alive this whole time, why did you not come back? Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? My father died of grief for you!”_

_He tilted his head calculatingly. “Oh, my, yes. I know very well how you’ve suffered. Tess was kind enough to fill me in.” I was briefly afraid that he knew of my longing for him in those dreaded few months- but dismissed the thought, for I knew it would only make me look weak. He inspected the kitchen door, smirking. “She really is a most ravishing woman.”_

_“Answer me, if you have any respect for yourself! Why did you leave?”_

_“There were certain…events that made me rather unwilling to come home. I had the impression that I was not wanted.” His eyes darkened threateningly._

_I was tired, hopelessly tired, of reliving that moment which had plummeted both of us into darkness. “Oh, Matt, you can’t still be bitter about that, can you? We were children. Can’t you put all that in the past?”_

_He looked on the edge of laughter, but then flicked his wrist trivially. “Words can be horribly scarring. But all that is quite forgotten now. I forgive you.”_

_“Then why are you here? If you’re looking to get your hands on an inheritance, you’ve missed your chance. William was certain you were dead. He left nothing for you.”_

_“Oh, Dominic, now that I take exception to!” He gasped, gaping at me in mock incredulity and rose from his seat to approach me. “Do you really think I would be so shallow as to come here just for monetary gain? That aside, I have no need for any material goods. I am quite satisfied with my current predicament, thank you very much.”_

_“Indeed.” I retorted sourly. “Where did you get those clothes, anyway? You didn’t steal them, did you?”_

_“As if! I’ll tell all in time, my dear, dear Dominic.”_

_“What did you come back for, then, if it wasn’t for the inheritance?”_

_He hesitated a moment in thought, blinked once, and fixed his hazy eyes on me. “You’re quite close. I have come for something that is rightfully mine.” He began to pace towards me, slowly but surely, and with dread I realised that I was being backed into the wall of the staircase. There was no inconspicuous escape from him._

_“A-and what’s that?” I asked him frailly, halting a few steps before the wall._

_He narrowed his eyes. “I think you know.”_

_His hand shot out to seize the fabric of my shirt roughly, his other arm wrapping around my back in one swift moment. Dizzied by the sudden movement, I struggled to get away. “God—what do you think you’re-?” I cried, but was cut off when a pair of searing lips was pressed to mine in a brutish kiss._

_Panic flooded my senses; I desperately tried to turn my face from his, but he only pushed harder into me, and when I tried to take a breath I felt the very tip of his tongue brush the inside of my mouth. Infuriated, I tore my head to the side, but the villain wouldn’t give up his lecherous endeavour that easily; his teeth latched onto my bottom lip for a fleeting, yet painful second. Eventually I managed to lurch away from him, my lip throbbing, my head reeling, and a set of dastardly, half-lidded eyes burning me from where he stood, hunched and heaving with exertion about a metre before me. We must have only been parted for a split second when the kitchen door clicked open and my wife slid out daintily to receive us._

_“I must say, Matthew, you are looking quite remarkable. You must tell us how you got so rich all of a sudden!-“ She gasped at the sight of me, rushing over to inspect my shirt. I looked down to see a few tiny drops of blood staining the white fabric. “Oh, Dominic, what’s this?” She looked at me soulfully with an endearing concern in her soft voice._

_“Nothing, darling.” I panted. “I must have bitten my lip.”_

_She slapped my hand playfully. “Oh! See how excited he is to have you back, Matthew!" The man in question, upon her entrance, had turned on his heel nonchalantly and adopted his original proud, aloof stance. His guise was immaculate. Tess must have been completely deceived._

_He smiled with aggravating humility. “Oh, the both of you do flatter me terribly.” He jerked a silver stopwatch out of his jacket and seemed alerted by whatever time he saw on its intricate face. “But- Oh, it’s such a shame- I really must be going. They will be wondering what I’m up to back at the house. Do tell Christopher that I will be back soon enough to see him, will you?”_

_Tess looked a little disappointed, but nodded to him all the time. “Do come back soon, Matthew.” Once again she took her leave, evidently to halt Mrs Lowe in her task._

_The moments she had stepped from the room, Matthew swept his gaze back to me. I still stood awestruck by the staircase, unable to utter a word. “I thought you would be cold at first,” He muttered. He wandered over to the writing desk by the window, where I noticed he had laid his precious package. “But if you would take a moment to reacquaint yourself with me,” He tapped the parcel twice with his fingers. “Then I hope you will warm up to me again.”_

_He dragged his fingers slowly down the desk, took a deep breath, and then strode from the room in one swift flutter of that dark cloak. I was left to contemplate what had just taken place, still in shock, still caught somewhere between disbelieving happiness and paralysing fear._

_My first thought was to hide the parcel he had left for me before Tess returned, lest it be something awful and incriminating, so I stole it away into my study hurriedly, rooting for some hidden drawer in the cabinet. I found some dusty old place where there was nothing but a few old scraps of newspaper cuttings, and slid the hefty package in, shutting the drawer firmly. I stepped back and made sure there were no obvious fingerprints which would draw the attention of my wife or servant. I decided eventually that it was only made conspicuous by my own knowledge, and so made haste to the parlour to sit and calm myself somehow._

_I am unsure of what to do next. This was a day that was meant to bring joy; but my guilt and my past have tarnished its glory. Matthew is no longer someone I can bully or tease- he is a powerful man now, and someone I do not know if I can stand up to. He has somehow gained outstanding confidence, riches and education- God knows how- and now he is a rival that could easily overpower me. He wishes to finish what he thinks we started long ago. Part of me wonders if- perhaps- if I were not already married, would I have succumbed to him already? Oh God, strike those hellish thoughts. He seeks to destroy me; to annihilate everything I have gained in the years of his absence, and I must remain resolute and faithful, despite his temptation. I must not give in to him- not when I have come this far! Though it will not be easy; he promises to return soon enough, and every hour that he must wait, I think his desire for revenge will grow fiercer._


	18. Chapter 18

**XVIII**

 

My resolve to leave the package alone did not even last me a day.  Sometime during the night- I forget the time exactly- I found myself restless, troublesomely curious. I could not ignore the voices in my head that suggested the never-ending possibilities of what could lie just beneath that thin layer of paper- was it some lavish treasure from his new abode? Or was it something unpleasant- was it some hideous, vile thing he’d hunted down and brought to bring disgust and horror to me as a form of petty revenge? But I didn’t care what it was; I had to know. My ignorance was burning me from the inside out.

I tried to be quiet as I left my wife alone in the bed; I shrugged off the bedsheets, and tiptoed downstairs with a candle, into the darkened study where the windows were not even slightly touched by the daylight. The candle was my only sight in the darkness, lighting up a murky world of bookends and paperweights and empty, dusty glasses. Eventually my searchlight found the edge of the desk, and I felt for that drawer where I’d hidden the thing. The parcel was a hefty one, I remember; I had to slide it gently onto the surface, for to simply drop it would have made an almighty noise. Angrily, I tore the paper off into shreds, wrenching the wrapping off in a final movement to unmask the contents within.

Before me on the desk lay a book- some enormous, thick-spined tome with a wealth of beautiful, swirled engravements on its leatherbound cover. It seemed extremely old and dusty and battered, the ink naming the title and author scratched away and barely legible. I briefly wondered if Matthew had written the book himself, but its age defied that, and from what I could make out, the book was actually written by someone else, whose name escapes me now. I opened the front cover tentatively; timid in case I damaged some fibre of this ancient, lost work.  Within the cover was a name, printed with a stamp:

_From the library of :_

_G. S. BEECHAM_

_Please do not remove._

The name was not a familiar one; I found myself amused and not very surprised that Matt had apparently stolen the book. Instead of scolding him mentally, I was almost endeared that, in some respects, he had changed very little from when we were children.

I flicked through a few of the pages, finding that this was some novel involving characters called something like Cynthia and the Appleby family or something of that sort. It was a rather unmoving plot, from the snippets that I read. But what intrigued me most was that there seemed to be other pieces of paper which were hidden within the pages of the book; papers that were of varying textures and colours, some of them looking horribly damaged and dirtied, all flattened out and imperceptible when the book was closed. Confused, I turned to the next page after the one naming its owner. There was a note there, in rather beautiful handwriting, and I was startled to see that it was addressed to me:

 

 

_Dear Dominic,_

_This book, whilst to the unknowing eye just some common novel, actually contains several secret documents which are strictly for your eyes only. They are thoughtless things which I wrote whilst I was away from you- each one was addressed to you, but never sent, for I think I always knew, or at least hoped, that I would one day give them to you in person. In here, they may be safely concealed and preserved. You must forgive my childish ramblings in the first couple- I do promise that I will become a better writer as they progress- and I pray that you will take the time to read them, and know where I have been and the way in which the years have changed me. But know this; however I may have changed externally, what lies within is unchangeable. My heart is stubborn; it will pursue you forever, no doubt. Maybe when you know what has befallen me in the seven cruel years of separation from you, you will remember who I was, and the way I know very well that you once felt- or perhaps still do._

_Yours eternally,_

_Matthew._

The note made me fearful. If I dared read the letters in the book, would they influence me as Matthew claimed they would? What strange things did they describe that could change my mind so dramatically? I closed the book. No; I would refrain from it! They were poisonous; they would manipulate my thoughts, and make me do terrible things, and I would not even allow the possibility of being swayed by them to exist.

Or, so I told myself. For my mind was in a lost place that night; I stood to go to bed, but instead found myself wandering the corridors of the house in search of largely nothing. I did not want to go back to bed. I ate some bread only to discover that I was not hungry, nor thirsty. I lit the fire and watched it in a detached sort of manner. I took a book from the study and tried to read it, but not one sentence of it sank in. Nothing in the world could hold my concentration for more than a minute or so- nothing but that infernal tome that still lay in the study, gleaming at me through the crack in the door whenever I passed by. It could have glittered like gold, the way it caught my eye;  a few slips of paper still peeping from between its forbidden pages, tempting me.

Questions swarmed in my mind; I wanted to know-no, _had_ to know- what was in there. It was infuriating not to know. Part of me wanted to succumb to the will of the words he had written; I desired to feel their power. All had been so serene until he returned; I needed some chaos, some intense feeling that would break the tediousness of peaceful joy.

I looked to the clock; it was five in the morning. The sky was streaked black and blue with smears of cloud-I had an hour before Mrs Lowe would wake and begin her chores. I might not manage the entire pack tonight, but I would begin the tale at least. The first letter I removed from the book was written on rather fine paper, but had been obviously stained with water and mud, like many of the letters- all similar damage, so I assumed that they had all been in some unfortunate incident which had marked them.  Holding the candle up to rest in just the right place to illuminate the page, I sat down to read.

-

_12 th December 1913-_

_Dear Dominic,_

_I meant to promise to myself that I wasn’t going to miss you. I’m still so angry at you for what you did. I can’t believe you’d lie to me like that, and I know you’ve been cruel before, but you’ve never hurt my feelings like this in the past. You know it hurt. You must have done- who could say things like that and not expect the most awful agony to accompany the words?  But still- oh, how I miss you! I’ve never been away from you this long, and it stings- it stings so much more intensely than any words could. I do not know how to describe this feeling- why, if when I see you I feel like I have gained something, then this is the opposite. Something is missing from inside of me._

_But no matter how much I want to, I know I cannot return. You will not want me. You will probably only shout at me again. Besides, apart from the fact that we have always been together, there is no reason for you to want me. You might love me, yes, and I might love you- but we do not like each other. I am a perfectly hateable person. The reason I left is not just because I am upset, but because I wish to make a better person of myself. I wish to one day be a man that you will be proud to say you love, and be fond of, having missed him for years- You do miss me, don’t you? I keep getting very afraid and unable to sleep in case you don’t._

_God knows what you must think has become of me. Maybe you think I am dead- well, I may as well be for the way I feel now- but if I could speak with you now, I would beg you not to do anything reckless. I do not know what I would do if- if- I won’t say it. I refuse to even entertain the thought. But I am alive and as well as one can be considering what has happened._

_I am alive- but you must wonder how I survived! Well, I didn’t fall- I’m disappointed if you thought that. Have I ever so much as buckled at the knee in my life on these rocky fells? Never! I know them like the back of my hand. I thought I would die, though; after I left the house, the snow got horribly heavy- my horse was spooked, and soon beyond my control, and so I thought it was safer to leap from his back before it threw me from a cliff, or some other terrible mishap. The creature tore off into the wailing grey air and faded from my view. I do hope he’s alright- I didn’t see him again. The snow in the air was becoming so thick by then that it was difficult to breathe; every breath took a few snowflakes with it, and I couldn’t see for the snow that was caught in my eyelashes. I struggled through a nightmarish white hell; all of my senses reduced to almost naught but my feel of the terrible, terrible cold which sent me into numbness and immense pain all at once._

_It was by chance that I was saved; I waded almost waist-deep, almost blind and certain that death was coming. But then I bumped into some great lump in the snow; I felt out for it, and felt the smooth, pearly limestone beneath. There’s only one place where the limestone climbs that high; the entrance to the caves! Sure enough, when I felt around the mass like a blind man, I finally happened upon a gaping hole in the ice, and seeing the sheltered darkness within, flung myself down into the belly of the earth._

_It was still cold in the cave of course, and the only light was from the little mouth which lay high above me now. I had plummeted down a bumpy path some eight feet downwards, and it was not the house, but it provided sufficient shelter from the snow and that lethal wind. It was strange down there, Dom; I’ve never been that far down. It was tolerable for a while- that was, until the snow sealed up the entrance, and I was plunged into utter blackness. With no torch to light my way, I trembled, deep in the bowels of the darkness, hearing only ominous drips of water from places I could not see and the distant, ferocious roar of the wind above me. In that cave, I shivered, and I thought only of you, and how I would be so much less afraid if I had you by my side. I was scared some creature lived in the depths and would devour me, or even that the whole black palace would collapse on my head!-but no such disaster befell me, and to my delight, in the midst of that devilish night- the snow stopped._

_I crept up the slippery passage of rocks carefully, and dashed the snow away with one trembling hand. The winds still blasted in my face the moment the blockage was cleared, the sheer asperity of the climate chilling me to my core, but I pressed onwards and found myself in an alien landscape. Not one rock nor tree, nor anything could be spied out in the sea of white- all had been claimed by the ice, and was totally unrecognisable. From there on the summit I could see nothing above or below the snow. I considered returning home- really, I did!- But I was unable to navigate a place I could not recognise, and I think my ignorant feet took me in the wrong direction._

_The cold was bitter though the air was clear, and now that it was becoming morning, the dew-point had come; that very coldest of times when the water in the air must perish to an icy fate. I felt my skin would shrink away and peel off me, the way it blanched on my arms and turned an ugly purple at my fingertips. I thought perhaps, like those Arctic wanderers I read of as a child, I might be struck with frostbite, and forfeit either a limb or my life! I was struck with horror and broke into as fast a run as I could muster through the cloying white slush, not caring now where I ended up, so long as there was food and a fire awaiting me there._

_At last, I came to a place I knew; in the violet sky I saw the shape of Wild Boar Fell rising in the distance, only just visible beyond a winding ridge, and recognised the sight- I must have been at the northernmost stretch of the plateau, and so- the stretch of land that lay ahead must be the Allotment._

_Can you imagine the fear that claimed me when I saw it? I may have imagined it, but it seemed the wind was becoming blustery again, and I thought I saw a haze of snow approaching from the west- I could not afford to be caught in that monster again! I had to find some shelter, and fast- but as you know, I’ve never even tried to take on the treacherous ground that I faced now. Praying I would be spared by the jaws of the earth, I took one fearful step- and nothing. I was safe. I took a few more, and confidence must have cursed me, for my seventh striding step saw my right foot suckered in by some squelching, living mud! I panicked, and struggled, wrenching myself out at the expense of my shoe, which was gobbled up hungrily by the mire. I took some note, though, that the place where the mud had lain in disguise was somewhat sunken; there was a visible trench of snow, and scanning the area I saw there were several. I could have leapt for joy- the snow had miraculously revealed the hiding-places of the bogs! I ran through the mire, dodging the trenches nimbly (but with a tingling, frozen set of toes) and reaching the crag at its end._

_Oh, if you had seen me, Dominic!  Then you would be proud. I count this as the pinnacle of my climbing achievements. And gosh, Dom- the sight! The sight of Wild Boar Fell from that very tip of the mountain is every bit as spectacular as we imagined it would be. The glorious shadow seemed to smile at me from across the distant valleys, and I thanked whatever spirit it was that had allowed me to cross the causeway unscathed._

_And where am I now, Dominic? Well- I am in a strange predicament now. As I wandered, quite dazed and with burrs pricking my shoeless foot from my journey across Ingleborough, I found myself on this rugged snowy moor, filled with dozing sheep who eyed me stonily for disturbing their cold slumbers. I sought some house, or hut, anything to warm myself and take a good rest, and the first thing I happened upon was a rickety old cattleshed all alone on the slopes of the valley. My muscles pleaded with me to stop walking, and I could not ignore their cries any longer, so I hobbled into the structure despite its poor insulation and filthy interior. There was a few more desolate sheep huddled in the corner looking threatened by me, and I am quite sure that they watched me all night as I nestled in my makeshift bed of hay._

_When morning finally broke, I had had but a few moments of sleep, and was woken by a ragged, hoarse voice crying against god and goodness at me- so many curses, one after the other, all yelped in my tired ears! It was awful, Dominic- and then some grotesque man wrestled me out of the hay like some wild animal being torn from the vegetation. I could not decipher much of his slurring accent, but I gathered that he was the farmer who owned this barn, and that he was not best pleased with my habitation of the place. I must have looked like a hermit- my clothes muddied and full of grass, still damp from the snow, and one shoe missing- and he yanked me right off his property, mumbling something about “tidying me up”. He carted me off to a small, quaint house in the middle of Chapel-Le-Dale, and there I have remained until now._

_They are wonderful people, the couple here. They are called the Moselys, and consist of one bearded, stout, poetic man, and one tall, birdlike woman. They do take good care of me- why, the first they saw of me, they ordered the servants to wash me and fetch me new clothes. I have been treated like a prince- but they do expect some recompense. They do not question me on my origins; I think they may suspect I have lived in the wild all my life from the state I was in- but they do ask that I may perform some menial chores around the house for them, such as trimming the hedges and polishing the silver. I am not used to this position in the household, but I am obliged to assist them._

_I asked Mr Mosely if I might use his study for some writing (and I think he was so astounded by the thought that I could write that he was compelled to allow me), and that is where I write this letter now. I shall never send it to you. I cannot. You will not want my paltry love-letters, will you? When the thought of my affection sickens you? I will have to put up with talking to myself for now. If this odd habit of mine continues, I think I shall be quite mad soon!_

-

There was a noise, then, in the kitchen, and with panic I realised that my time had been cut short. The world was waking, and I had to retire from my reading before my doings were uncovered. I hid the book amongst my father’s in the shelf where I knew not a second glance would be cast upon it, and though guilty for it, I desperately awaited tomorrow night so that I could read again. The words were almost magical; enchanting things full of mystery, things which made me feel as if I were peering into Matthew’s very soul; it scared me to a degree, but it allured me even more. I felt I was in touch with a very dark and dangerous world; something old and forgotten, and something I seemed always to have known somewhere in the very back of my mind. Over the following weeks, I set about reading a letter a night, and each night they only grew more delectable to the mind.


	19. Chapter 19

**XIX**

 

_8 th August 1914._

_Dear Dominic,_

_Tonight will be my last under the Mosley’s roof. They have been good to me, these last few months; I may have been just a lowly servant to them, but they have been patient and rewarding masters. But you know what I’m like- I can’t stay inside. I have a restless soul that tugs me elsewhere, and I cannot tell you how many times I have halted from my gardening duties to cast my gaze over the red hills, longing to traverse them even if you will not walk with me._

_This morning, I made a decision. I was in the village when I saw some great queue of young men trailing to a desk in the square. Manning the desk were tall, uniformed men, who looked like soldiers. I realised with a strange excitement that this must be where the young men were signing up to join the army! I found myself abandoning the shopping I had been sent out for, and planting myself firmly at the back of the line of eager soldiers._

_I know, I know you would fear for me, if you knew- but Dominic, I’ve always wanted to travel! Remember when I promised we’d go to the mountains in Tibet one day, and climb the peak of Everest? France may be a negligible journey in comparison, but at least it is one step closer. I want to see it all one day, Dominic. Maybe when I come back, we can resume our plans, and every nook and cranny of this grand earth will be discovered on our travels. I also think it shall be good for me to do some fighting. I shall learn tactics, and gunmanship, and become strong. War shall make a man of me. And perhaps one day- if we are lucky- the country will call on you, too, and we will fight side-by-side._

_As I awaited my turn, I suddenly realised that around me, the other men were all much older, or at least very noticeably taller, than I was. I am only fifteen- I am too young to fight- but they don’t know that, do they? So when the curmudgeonly man sat at the registration desk looked up to see me, puffing out my chest at the front of the queue in an effort to look a little larger, he quirked his eyebrow, and asked: “How old are you, son?”_

_I coughed. “Eighteen, Sir.”_

_He looked very suspicious, Dom- I think he was on the very edge of kicking me out, of scolding me for putting myself in such danger- oh, the thoughts that spiralled in my head! I was afraid he’d see me tremble, or that three years was a stretch, and could never be believed. “Eighteen?”_

_“Yes.” I assured him, feeling the heavy glares of the towering figures around me, and beginning to sweat in a way I desperately hoped was not visible to them. “I’ve a bone defect, Sir. Stunted growth.”_

_“Bone defect? It’s not harmful, is it?”_

_“N-no, Sir. Just makes me a little short.”_

_After a few horrid moments he shook his head in resignation. “We’re scraping the barrel,” He snarled. “But we need all we can get. Name, boy?”_

_And that, dear Dominic, is the tale of how I signed up for the army. I snuck back home, rushing for the shops, notified my keepers and stole upstairs, giggling. I am so excited! And so proud of my sweet little lie-I shall see a world beyond England, and my journey will begin tomorrow morning! I will return when I have done my duty- and I will return an improved man, I know it._

_-_

_15 th August 1914._

_Dear Dominic,_

_Today I write to you from the sunny port of Southampton. I thought I would never leave the hills- and look at me now! I sit on the stone of the harbour- picture it if you can- in the most resplendent sunshine one could wish for. The sea’s scent is a dreamy one- it is so much more pure and powerful than I imagined it would be. The seagulls’ cries are not that dissimilar to lapwings- they are a little harsher, and the scrawny birds are bold enough to pester even the strongest man for food. They wheel around on the ocean breeze like kites, dappling the floor beneath with their swift shadows. If I cast my gaze out across the majestic expanse of blue, I can see a shadow on the horizon- I am told by my captain that the land I spy is France._

_France is where I will soon be, when the boat arrives, and then on to Belgium. There, a multitude of challenges awaits me, I know- but boundless glory and worthy trials are what I go to seek. When I return, I won’t be a child anymore. Well, I don’t think myself a child now!- But nobody will when I come back. Maybe when I do return, I shall march back to the Hall, and you will see me- now a celebrated veteran of war- and fly to my arms, your love for me reaffirmed by my newfound honour._

_I have met several men who I am told will soon be fighting in my line. Every single one has asked the accursed question of my age, and how I came to be so puny at eighteen- whether they buy my story of being aggravated by a disease, I’m not sure. I’m half convinced that most of them just smile and nod, treating me like some kind of idiot. I would smack them for being so patronising, I would- you know I’ve never tolerated that- but I know that any sort of ruffian behaviour will get me swiftly sent back home, so I try my very hardest not to bat an eyelid._

_One of the men I have befriended is called Jamie (I think it’s short for James, but he insists on the nickname), a young Mancunian of twenty-two. He has a rough yet strangely amicable sort of voice, not too far removed from the accent of the village folk we’re used to, but you can tell he hasn’t had our education. Despite the difference in our class positions, he has taken to treating me as a younger brother. I do quite enjoy that. I was afraid that nobody would like me here. I’m used to people loathing me. Maybe he takes to me so easily because he does not know what I’m like at home- if he knew that, I don’t think he’d be so willing to give me company._

_He’s shown me a photograph of a girl (I think her name is Mary, but I cannot be sure- something with an “m”) who he recently married, I think just a few months ago. She’s going to have his child, he said. He wants to do his part for the effort in France, but be back as soon as he can to see the little creature. He looks so wistful when he thinks of her, and so sad- as if he thinks he will not see her again. I think it’s a little silly. A big strong man like him? Fall in action? Nonsense; he can ride a horse, and wield weapons, and by God- his hands are so huge, I think he could snap a man’s neck in a heartbeat. I do hope he will be alright. If he cannot live through this war, what chances do I stand?_

_But I won’t dwell on that. Don’t worry. I promise not to die. I cannot die, I don’t think, if I keep the thought of you in my head. You shine like the fire of heaven in my mind, and yet burn me like a devil. I don’t know whether it is more pain or pleasure to think of you. But there is something more than this world in that thought, something which I’m sure renders me invincible. I cannot rest in this earth until I have claimed you. Yes, that’s it._

_I shall take a pack of papers and the letters I’ve already written with me. I’ll do my best to write to you speedily- though duty calls, now!_

_-_

_10 th December 1914-_

_Dear Dominic,_

_I haven’t written in a long while. I am sorry. But I have been quite distracted by my current circumstances. I must inform you now that I am no longer afraid of death- for Hell cannot be worse than this place. This, this is Hell. I cannot conceive anything viler than the place I call home today._

_There are no horses, Dominic. No swords, no great majestic charges, no fine uniforms. Not even some wild, bracing landscape of whistling grass for our battlefield- no; I live now in some infernal hole. This is a squalid barracks indeed; our warfare is bizarre. Endless stretches of trench after trench after trench, filled to the guts with starving, freezing, despondent soldiers like myself- and a rapidly depleting number, at that. There cannot be one day has passed where I haven’t heard of- some days, seen- a man dying. They are not struck down in melee combat. One clumsy peep over the sandbags, one moment of carelessness, one second of curiosity in the mire of boredom, mixed with swelling fear, in which surrounds us- and a young man is in the line of fire. They fall, without a moment of protestation, for they are dead before they hit the ground- they fall suddenly, and quietly, save for the earth-shattering shot which makes us all stand to attention, even though there is nothing we can do to save him._

_And if the Gerries don’t kill you-by God, Dominic, our own home is a death-trap. The mud is so thick and sludgy, wet with this perpetual rain and mixed, I’m sure, with unmentionable substances. I’ve been ill with cold and stomach upsets many a time, and people do seem to go to strange lengths to help me- I suppose it’s because they all think I’m ill. I would say I’m lucky to still be alive- but this place makes you doubt it, especially when there’s rats the size of small dogs crawling through the muck, nights are spent in foul, stinking quarters where the rain drips in, and you know quite well that you could be the next to be silenced by a German bullet._

_I don’t really know how things are back home. Is it as terrible as the things I’ve seen? The thought of you suffering aggravates me horribly. Sometimes I have the most awful nightmares- nightmares where I return, only to find that you are not there waiting for me-God! I can’t imagine anything worse! I pray for it to end soon; no evil on earth could justify a tragedy like this. I wish I could return to you; I wish I could just see your face, just once! I’d forgive you everything, every cruel word, if I could spend one moment with you before I am struck down. Some nights, sleep will not visit. I am left alone to gaze into the filthy darkness of my home, pretending I am not here, and hoping that I will see you before I die._

_I hope that Father is in good health; I hope I have not worried him too much with my departure. I miss Christopher, too-and Tess. I know you probably think that’s strange, but the truth is that she is no enemy of mine. How could she ever know the depth of my love for you? How could she understand? It is no fault of hers that we are parted, and now that I see things rather more in perspective, I understand that my hatred for her is misplaced. She has done me no wrong. How can I explain it-? I want her to be happy, but-just not with you. I feel quite conflicted; I suppose I should want you to marry her if I am lost here, but I do not. I know it is not the honourable thing to do, but part of me wishes vindictively that you will love nobody else until we are reunited by death._

_I have brought my old letters, but I’m afraid I managed to drop them in the mud a few weeks ago- they are stained now, and I’ve done all I can to rewrite them, to make them legible again- I don’t know why. Jamie is here, too- he almost found this stash, and I feared he’d read them, and not want to speak to me again!- But he respects my privacy, and assures me that my secrets shall remain my own. I am so grateful now for friends like him. I do not think I would have lived this long without him. I must find some way to bring him back home, so you can meet him! He is a true wonder of a man-an ally I intend to keep if I ever make it out alive._

_I do hope I will write again. I’m so afraid, Dominic._


	20. Chapter 20

**XX**

_29 th April 1915-_

_Dear Dominic,_

_I am no longer a tenant in that filthy trench. In some ways, I suppose I am glad it is over-yet I just wish that the outcomes of my escape hadn’t been so horrific. I almost wish that I had not lived, if only it could preserve the lives of those who were stolen away in my place! The only thing that makes me willing to go on is you- what a strange thought that is- that the only person that can revive me from my torturous despair is the very one who plunged me into it._

_It seemed to be a deathly sort of day from the very first light. The very air seemed grimy, and thick with some sort of evil; I knew that something dreadful would happen, as had been happening more often for the last few months, but nothing-nothing on this scale._

_I took the precaution to take my satchel of letters with me that morning, and to wear it close to me at all times. I felt that if I died, I should be with them- with the nearest thing I had to you. I think that taking them that day is the only reason I still have them with me now. Otherwise, all my letters to you might be blasted into ashes, or lost under layers of oozing mud._

_At around twelve o’ clock the order was given for us to go over the top. Such commands have invariably lost a large proportion of men, and I knew that this would be no exception. I bolted over no-man’s land, my comrades taking the lead with ease as my leg had become sore a few days previous. Before me, I could already see them falling, filled with bullets, shaking with the blasts and then slumping to the ground like scarecrows. I was brimming with fear, but some energy urged me to go on- until I tripped on one villainous stone and went flying headfirst into the mud._

_My skin burnt with horror; I was hopeless now! This was it, surely; my limbs ached too much for me to haul myself back to my feet. The bullets would come for me next- my fall must have been spotted. But the bullet never came. I lay waiting for the pain (or the nothingness) that it would bring, but instead was greeted by a surreal silence, and the absence of my friends._

_There was nothing around me on any sides; no gunshots, no shouts, no screams. Nothing. I began to try and crawl forwards, but then a figure burst out of the mist, covered in mud and waving his arms urgently. I recognised it as Jamie after some time-he kept calling “Don’t move! Don’t move a muscle!” At me, and I indignantly disobeyed him at first, determined to press onwards, but he threw himself onto me to pin me down._

_“Don’t go on,” He whispered. “Nobody’s coming back.”_

_The words had barely left his mouth when the mist before us began to alter; it changed colour, and looked slightly alien and sickly. Something about it was clearly wrong, dangerous; we watched it in stunned silence together, until suddenly a plume of green-this unnatural, lurid colour- shot forth from the shroud and seemed to be consuming the stretch of ground before us hungrily and with alarming speed. I screamed and tried to push myself away from this unfamiliar danger, but we both saw that there could be no escaping it._

_Jamie stood, looking at once valiant and miserable. He shrugged off his jacket, then leapt back down, quickly wrapping my face in the material. I protested that I could barely breathe; he protested back that that was probably for the best. I saw nothing but a brownish haze through the fabric at first, and then- dear god- the cloud of poison hit us like a wave. My senses were filled with a frightful acidic taste- and I began to cough, and my eyes stung, so I shut them stubbornly- but the breaths I relied on were pungent and deadly, and until I passed out, I was trapped in a world of darkness, fear and complete helplessness._

_I struggled in some kind of black trance for what could have been months to me- like I was stuck, imprisoned, in some burning coffin, where all was pain and panic-choked with anxiety, the very breaths I took stung in my chest and throat, causing me to retch as if my insides were so full of poison that they would no longer accept the clean air. There seemed to be moments of respite, where I was allowed my vision back; but that too became a sight of horror, for above me I would see the grasping hands of doctors and nurses scrambling over me. If I tried to cast my gaze away from them, I would see some apparition in the corner; an apparition the shape of you, and I feared that such an omen meant I would soon die, and my ailed mind was allowing me one last sight of pleasure before I was claimed by the jaws of death. I refused; I refused to be pulled away from my miserable existence, screwing my sore eyes back shut again, trying to look away from you to push away the doom you brought. But I could never resist for very long. I must have cried out like a moaning ghost for you._

_The nightmare did end at long last. Having slept soundly a few hours or so, I was woken quite rudely by some stranger rocking my shoulders with vigour; I was stunned awake, and amazed that I had managed to survive._

_“Listen, boy. Are you alright, there?” Asked a deep voice. My eyes began to focus, and a dark-haired, stern man in a white coat held me by my shoulders, hawkish eyes peering down at me. He was quite a frightening fellow, so I shut my eyes again, praying that he would be gone when they opened._

_A softer hand swept across my face, gently opening my eyes for me again. I looked to my right, and there was a sweet-featured, middle-aged nurse, coming to me from the blur of my vision. “Can you tell us how old you are?” She asked, so softly that it was barely a whisper. It stirred some kind of memory in me; whether it reminded me of how you would talk to me when I was very small, or some primal remembrance of my own mother, I do not know. But I felt instantly endeared to her, and safe with her around._

_Eased by her presence, I found my voice, though it was croaky and weak. “I’m- I’m eighteen.”_

_“That’s just it, boy. You aren’t, are you?” The doctor urged me, and I thought he might hurt me from the volume of his voice!_

_“I am! I am, I swear,” I protested, looking around me wildly. “Where’s Jamie? Where are the others?”_

_“I’m afraid you won’t be seeing them again. How old are you really, Matthew?” The nurse repeated. At first I was irritated by the questioning, but then the meaning of her words reached me, and I felt a chill flood through me._

_“Why-what’s happened? Where are they?”_

_“Matthew-“_

_“Did you see him? Did you see Dominic too, or was it my imagination?” I interjected._

_“Dominic? Who’s that, Matthew?”_

_“Enough of that. Stop distracting him.” The doctor cut back in. “We know you’ve lied to us, Matthew- we swear you won’t get into trouble if you just tell us how old you really are.”_

_There was no point in continuing the charade. I understood that I would not be returning to the battlefield, and would not be believed if I lied again. “Fourteen. I’m-no, I’m sixteen. “ I replied slurringly. “I was sixteen in February, Sir. Where’s Jamie?”_

_The doctor buried his head in his hands, and brought them down lethargically. “Jesus Christ. How on earth did you make it out here?”_

_“We have to send you home, Matthew. You’re very unwell.” The nurse added._

_I began to panic- I couldn’t go back, not in this pathetic state! “Oh, don’t! Don’t send me there! They won’t want me!”_

_He nurse stayed with me awhile, trying to calm me, but as my vision came into more focus, I saw the doctor storm angrily to a darkly-dressed figure on the far side of the ward. “He’s hysterical!” He complained exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. “God knows how he’ll react when he finds out-“ He paused, and looked at me from a distance. “God. Such a brave little blighter.”_

_I wasn’t brave, Dominic. I was stupid. I didn’t know half of the horrors I would experience, and I learnt later that day that almost all of my comrades- including Jamie- had perished. It had been a grave loss for the allies, and I was one of the lucky few who had been spared. But he would never see home again, nor his wife and child- and he died to protect me._

_I shouldn’t think it will be that long before I come home._

-

_4 th May 1915-_

_Dear Dominic,_

_They’ve finally released me from that dreaded hospital, but Lord save me, I don’t think I’m much closer to getting home than I was before. I’ve been sidetracked again, it seems, and though I think I am safe now- and in much better health-I don’t know how I shall ever get out of here._

_As promised, I was not given any punishment for lying. They simply insisted that I be returned to the Mosleys immediately, and I was sent back across the channel for a longer trip than before. Feeling rather seasick, I finally emerged into the bustling waterfront of Liverpool around six o’clock yesterday evening. There was a gangly little bunch of boys my age who had been collected from the various trenches for the very same reason as me, and one by one, each was carted away by a cab to their respective places of origin. I had been told that my cab would come very soon- but I presumed the driver might be caught in traffic somewhere, so I leant back across the brickwork of the port and admired the gloomy beauty of Liverpool’s mighty towers in the fading sunlight._

_From my place on the street corner, I saw a fascinating glimpse of all the richness of urban life that I had missed from our remote little home; the poor and the rich in close quarters. The poor were numerous in the extreme, and obvious from their tattered, plain clothing- the rich blazed out from the crowd, their outfits grand and outrageous. I could not keep my wondering eyes on a single figure before they were entranced even more by somebody else. It was the evening, too- so many people, with so many stories and friends and purposes, all out so late in the day, all so busy-! How strange their frantic lives must be, and how different to ours!_

_Hours must have passed; I might even have slumped into sleep as I sat at the foot of the wall, yet when I awoke, there was nobody here for me still! The sky was becoming worryingly dark; where on earth was the cab? I heard some distant bell chime twelve o’ clock, and there was very little light left for me to see. I was struck with the overwhelming fear that I would be lost, friendless and forever removed from my old home! The wonder of the city had dwindled and transformed into a grotesque new face- I heard screams in the dark, and the rattling of carriages, the fierce shouts of angry youths rising from the shadowy labyrinth I understood so little. I knew at once that I was not safe, and suddenly quite aware that the cab was not going to come for me. I had been forgotten, and now- now what was to become of me? I could have cried, for I felt that the city would hang me out to dry-ruin me; kill me, or even worse, allow me to live and become one of those hapless scavengers whom the rich men trample beneath their leather shoes. In this city, there was no future for me. I was doomed._

_Knowing that waiting around for nothing would do me no favours, I fled into the alleyways. The place was a maze of washing-lines and moonlit puddles, of shrieking children and sneaking animals, of dilapidated terraces and a foul stink of degradation. The women leered at me from the doorways; their dresses were not like the girls we knew back home. They were torn, stained, and yet adorned with scruffy little ribbons in their thousands, hair piled up messily on their heads like birds’ nests, and faces painted a gloomy white. Their cheeks were roughly rouged, and their lips geisha-red. I feared them at first- in my innocence, I did not know what manner of women I was looking at. I thought they looked too much like ghosts, wrecked, vengeful brides who would chase me for my soul._

_One of the elaborate creatures strode up to me from her perch, her low-hanging blouse shimmying up to greet me. “You look lost, young man,” her foreign, nasal accent twanged. I recoiled in alarm, but she followed me down the street relentlessly. “Are you lonely?” She cried. “Want some company tonight?”_

_I begged her let me alone, but then the whole rotten crowd of them started bickering amongst themselves, seemingly fighting over me. I was not flattered, Dominic- it was all very upsetting. I’d heard of these sorts of women (for Father used to condemn their trade, do you remember? I wouldn’t be surprised if he still does, old prude that he is) and I didn’t want to associate with them. Suddenly, and old-sounding, crooning cry broke out across the street, echoing over the struggling women, startling them and sending them angrily storming back to their roosts._

_A woman in a weighty lilac frock, slim and bony but rather tall, came charging out of one of the shadowy houses. Her hair was built up into a wiry grey beehive, with plaits and flyaways struggling to escape from her crown in every direction. She was gaunt-faced and wrinkled, but still wore a severe coat of scarlet on her thin lips, which were frowning fiercely at my attackers. Behind her followed a slip of a girl in dazzling white, with a shock of orange hair pulled luxuriantly over one shoulder. From where I was cowering in a dripping black archway, the pair of them could have been saints or angels, come to rescue me from a horde of demons._

_“Leave him alone,” The woman scowled, eyeing the culprits for a few moments more before attending to me. “Are you alright, love?” She whispered, in a tone that was surprisingly benevolent._

_“I think so,” I replied meekly. “But I’m lost. I was sent home from France, but the cab never came-“_

_“Come on!” She cackled, snatching up my wrist merrily, and pulling me up from the gritty floor. “Tell me when we get inside. You’ll shiver your boots off in this cold.”_

_Her house is a sweetly strange place; lit a sort of dark purple, with patterned cloth strewn all about the place. There are many, many rooms- more than could be identified from the outside- and some of those odd women lie strewn on couches or sitting patiently on the rugs. Up two flights of stairs, she led me to a tiny room with a double bed and a dusty chandelier sparkling dully at me from the ceiling. She sat in an armchair opposite my spot on the bed, and the girl- her daughter- milled around in the background, vainly trying to tidy up the appallingly endearing ruckus._

_She introduced herself as Minnie Morris, and passingly referred to her daughter as Philomena. She never said it explicitly, but I gathered that she ran this institution- that she was head of the rowdy band of women- and this was where they conducted their work, in this dim and hazy lair. She invited me to stay here as long as I need to, and though in any other circumstances I would have swiftly refused, I was more than grateful for her offer. Anything was better than facing the fiendish, cold night that waited outside of doors._

_“My, what a charming face you have!” She flattered me, ruffling my hair as her daughter sat opposite and wheedled away with her knitting needles. “How old are you, little one?”_

_“I’m sixteen, Miss.”_

_“Sixteen! Well- you have the face of a child, boy. Don’t look offended! Many would see that’s a blessing. You’ll break a good few hearts in your time, I’ll bet!” I felt rather sullen at that, and turned my face away from her.  She frowned. “Oh, what’s that stony look for? Is there something wrong, Matthew, my love?”_

_“Oh-it’s nothing really, Miss Wilhemina- but-“_

_“Nothing’s nothing. If it troubles you, it troubles us. Do tell, Matthew. It does wonders for the mind.”_

_“I’m afraid you won’t like me if I tell you.”_

_She smiled. “Who could dislike a handsome little creature like you?”_

_“Miss Wilhemina-“_

_“Call me Minnie, love.”_

_“Miss Minnie- “I stuttered, afraid of how she would react. “Before I went to France, I was in love with someone back at home. I knew they loved me back- but when I told them, they turned me away.” I did no acting when I grimaced in sadness- the memory of you burdens me still._

_“Oh, my poor child!-“ She gasped, but I shook my head vigorously._

_“Miss Minnie, you don’t understand- it was my adopted brother.” She gaped like a fish, and markedly shifted a good foot further from me. Assuming she would be appalled at me, I hung my head, and made about gathering my things. “You’ve probably never heard something so preposterous, have you? Oh, I’ll just leave- you probably won’t want me here anymore-“_

_Before I could make much of a move, I was hauled back down. “Matthew, sit down. I wouldn’t dream of letting you shiver out on that street again.” She moved a little lock of hair from my eyes.  “What you’re saying isn’t uncommon. There are many men- and women, I’m sure- who know what you feel.”_

_I sighed in despair, and I saw that Philomena had looked up from her work to eye me. It was a bizarre mix of sympathy and curiosity, and she was smiling gently. “How could they, Minnie?” I began. “My story is so strange- I can scarcely believe anyone could comprehend these feelings! They run so deep- they aren’t just some passing infatuation- I haven’t seen him for nigh on three years now, and still they persist- I feel as if they’ve inhabited the very core of my being since the moment I was born!”_

_“Hush, now! I don’t mean that- every love is different, each fabricated of so many different emotions- but I know that if you take the time to hear the tales of other’s you’ll recognise something of yourself in them. That’s the only way to mend a broken heart, my love. To take the bits and pieces others have to spare, and patch up the pieces you’re missing.”_

_With that, she bade me go to sleep and rest my toiling mind, urging me under the covers. She left quietly, and I was left alone with Philomena, still halted in her actions, watching me quite amusedly from her seat. I squinted bitterly at her, thinking she was making fun. “What are you looking at?”_

_She laughed coyly. “You.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because we don’t usually get young men around here.”_

_I buried my face in the covers, and she stood up, leaning to try and peer at me. “Oh, don’t shrivel away, you! I’m not being nasty- I like you. I think you’re sweet.” I peeped over the covers, and she continued casually. “I’m sorry about your brother.” She looked down at something in her hands and smirked. “I have a present for you.”_

_She threw whatever the item was at me, and I struggled furiously away from it in alarm. Once I had come to my senses, I identified the object as a knitted scarf, and heard her laugh sharply at my reaction. I hesitated awhile, then swallowed. “Thank you.”_

_She grinned once more, slid away to the door, and with a soft “goodnight,” slipped away._

 


	21. Chapter 21

**XXI**

 

_19 th June 1916-_

_Dear Dominic,_

_I do quite like it here in Liverpool. It’s so lovely to always be beside the sea- and to think of all the things that lie across that water. The New World is across the Atlantic from here- that was another place we said we’d go, wasn’t it? Oh, I must refrain from saying such things. It must get horribly tedious. And besides- it doesn’t matter what I used to want in the past. I shan’t get it._

_Philomena- well, I tend to call her Phil now- is like a sister to me. We go picking the pockets of the rich men in the markets, and then we go and eat our lunches with our feet dangling over the side of the dock. We spot the little black fish shimmying this way and that in the murky water, and sometimes we take a net and try to catch them- though most of the time, we are unsuccessful. More than once, I’ve tumbled headfirst into the sea and had to be rescued. Phil always laughs at me, and I used to get annoyed at her, but since I’ve realised she doesn’t really mean any harm, I’ve found myself laughing along._

_Minnie is a very good mother to the both of us. It doesn’t half remind me of Mrs Lowe- why, I’d almost forgotten her- her bedtime stories are sorely missed!-and though she’s often very busy with her work, she does care for us an awful lot. She doesn’t object to our playful adventures in the middle of town, but she’s very insistent that we do not get caught by the police- we’d be in a hell of a mess if that happened._

_I hope you will not be offended when I say I am trying my very best to forget you. Not to forget you completely, of course- God, what a dreadful thing that would be- but to try and attach myself to someone else, for chasing you after all this time seems even less profitable a plan every day. Even if I do go back, I suppose you’ll be besotted with someone else, won’t you? You must think I am never coming back- you won’t waste your years dreaming of me. If I am honest, I’m not sure if I will ever come back. I think it is healthier for both of us if I leave you forever._

_That wasn’t the way it felt in the past though, was it? I wish we were still young boys, when all of our dreams were possible, and everything we desired was within our grasp. But life’s toils have stolen our joy from under our noses. I’ve learnt this from life; not everything is possible. There are some paths which cannot be followed, and the path which leads to you is one of them. I shall remain here for now, because I am happy; I am serene when I do not think of you, and the business of urban life, the sounds and the sights and the people, are wonderful distractions to delight the mind._

-

_3 rd October 1916-_

_Dominic, I thought that I had done it, I really did. I honestly thought that your haunting memory had left me at long last, and that I could live a free life away from you, as a real man of the world, an independent creature- but I know now that I have failed.  It all started this evening, when I took Phil out for a stroll by the sea, and the sweet and lonesome sun was just turning red in the distance. The air whistled coldly in my ears, and it made me think of the wintertime in Ingleton, and the sea was ringed in burning orange light._

_We talked for years and years; she told me many, many things, all about her life and her family. She says that her mother was a poor working-girl who fell in love with a gentleman, a gentleman that promised to raise her out of her dark and fearful life- but instead, her prince had left poor Minnie alone, with a child to raise all by herself, and a bitter vengeance that would make her resent the devil who wronged her eternally. She seemed obstinate and rather stubborn not to show a sliver of woe, but I could tell it was hurting her, and so I told her all about the mystery of my own parentage, and how I had clung onto the Howards for dear life. I think that gave her some comfort, to know that I could take some share in her sadness, and we embraced fondly on the pier as night was setting in._

_And for one blessed moment, I thought she perhaps sparkled like a diamond in my arms; a wave of strange pleasure fell over me. Suddenly, Philomena was not just a girl, not just Minnie’s daughter, but a woman- a wondrous, beautiful, radiant creature which for some bizarre reason decided to grace me-_ me! _\- with her presence. I wonder- have you felt this feeling too, Dominic? Is this perhaps a different kind of love to ours, one which is not so destructive and passionate? For I felt as light as a feather with her before me._

_I know I have lectured in these letters time and again how I love you, and how my heart cannot be turned away from you, but you must forgive me. I am a man- I am only human, and there was something in Philomena tonight- something so pure and bright that I thought it might explode out of her- that I knew somebody would capture, and I felt that it had to be me, someone who knew her, and cared about her, and understood, rather than some nasty brute stalking the streets looking for some hapless woman to leer over. I held her, and I kissed her- and when we returned to the house, I made love to her._

_I would have been worlds away from thoughts of you if I hadn’t done it, Dominic. For there was something so intense about it all- all this frivolity suddenly giving way to great, overpowering emotion- that I could not suppress the wealth of love for you that I still retain, and in the final throes of it, I silently cried out your name. It’s a cardinal sin, I know, to think of someone else- I remember hearing it in much softer terms from the vicar back in Ingleton- but I couldn’t help it. There was some comfort to be found in her not knowing- or at least, so I thought._

_I got up from the bed, thinking perhaps she had gently slipped into a dreamy state, in search of something to drink and clear my head. I lurched over to the dresser, looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, God, who is this man? Where did he come from? There was a half-glass of gin still there (who knows who it belonged to) and I swigged it briskly, and jumped when I heard a voice from the darkness of the bed behind me. “You thought of him, didn’t you?”_

_I slammed down the glass and turned around. Phil was sat up in her nightgown, the sheets folded up around her like a bird’s bedding, and her eyes shining valiantly. I swallowed the bitter liquid determinedly. “What? Who do you mean, ‘him’?”_

_She grinned in a sad sort of way. “Oh, Matthew, darling. Don’t be like that. You know who I mean. I could see it in your eyes.”_

_I ran a strained had through my hair. Oh, God, was it that obvious? It seemed I had deceived nobody except myself. “Yes. Yes, I do.” I groaned, lowering myself uneasily to sit on the floor._

_Phil frowned down at me, delicately making her way down to sit beside me. “It’s alright. I’m not offended. And I don’t blame you.”_

_“What do you mean by that?” I exclaimed, hiding my face. “I should have been thinking of you! Look at you-look how beautiful you are! There are people who would die to have an inch of your beauty- and yet- I’m too stuck in the past to care!”_

_She seized the wrist of my shaking, agitated hand, and held it fast in hers. “I don’t blame you because I am just as bad. Worse, even.”_

_“You don’t mean-who were you thinking of, then? What could possibly be worse?”_

_“At least the person you dream of is alive.” She sighed, that sad-but-bold look gleaming in her cheeks again. “ I’ve spent years waiting for someone who I am now fairly sure is not going to come back. ’Missing in action’, they said. For a very long time I’ve been certain that he was out there, alive. But I’m starting to lose my faith.”_

_I blinked. “Phil…”_

_“Don’t worry about me. “ She insisted firmly. “I’m a strong spirit. Even if he never does come back, I’ll still strive on without him. I’ll live the rest of my life as an ode to him.”_

_“Wouldn’t you rather live a live dedicated to yourself?”_

_She swallowed, took the glass of gin, and inspecting it, saw that it was empty. ““It’s too late for that. They’re one and the same to me now.”_

_I don’t know yet if you’ve known the tenderness of women the way I have experienced it tonight, but if you have not, I will tell you this; it is wonderful, such a wonderful feeling. I hope you do experience it, because I think it’s something everyone should be lucky enough to possess at some point in their lives. But I could not shake the sensation that there was something missing. I cannot help but think that it will never feel completely right if I cannot find the right person to share it with.  And I hope, I hope with the most livid passion, that when the time comes, you will think of me._

_-_

_8 th March 1917-_

_Dear Dominic,_

_My stay in Liverpool will soon be coming to an end. I will soon make the journey from here to the Dales, the journey I should have made almost two years ago now. Before I see you again, I must warn you; even though I have not forgotten you, I am not the same boy I used to be. Here in Liverpool, I decided that if I was to be bound to you eternally, to one day return and claim you again, I must make some effort to impress upon return. What was it that you could not love about me? It was because I was childish, and stubborn, too low-born and feeble to surpass the shame of loving one of your own sex. I seek to undo this; I have made myself more than a needy child. I have taken all measures to be world-wise and resourceful; I have courted many a woman (amongst others), and I have seen all sorts of unusual, intriguing sights in this place. My new knowledge, I hope, will fix the holes in our romance, and you shall find yourself unable to turn away from me this time- or so I hope. I hope that I am now infinitely more desirable to you._

_I have some very sad news to break, news which was the incentive for me to leave this place. Minnie’s health has been declining for a while now, and it was not until very recently that I became really quite aware of just hold old the grand maiden really was. She seemed weaker and weaker each day- and what really put fear into me was when one of the girls told me she’d seen her coughing up blood- and for the past three weeks, she has been completely bedridden. I reassured Phil that it was only temporary- that one day, she would recover- but that is not so._

_Yesterday evening, she was in a horrible state. The pain she was enduring was something she had tried to quash with alcohol, and in truth it was doing her no good. I am not sure whether she knew what she was doing, or where she was. But as Phil and I tried to soothe her in her ravings, she suddenly looked quite awake and alive, and struck out a grizzly had to grasp mine, locking eyes with me._

_“Matthew, I want you to make me a promise-“ She rasped, her breaths uneven and horrid._

_Phil laid a hand to push her struggling mother back into the bed. “Careful now, Mother, don’t strain yourself-”_

_“Listen well to me!” The ancient woman commanded. “You were the son I never had. I did a terrible thing, Matthew. I waited and waited and waited for someone to come back to me. I wanted so much to tell him how I felt. I wanted so much to tell him how he’d hurt me, and to hurt him back. But instead, all I did was wait.” A sob wrenched itself out of her bony ribcage. “ I’ll never know if he was ever sorry. I’ll never have my vengeance on him for what he did. You promise me now- promise me you won’t let that happen to you. Promise me you will go and fulfil your desires before the years overtake you, like they did with me! Promise!”_

_“Miss Minnie-I don’t know-“ I began, suddenly finding myself brimming with fear. I knew what she spoke of- but I chose to ignore it. I couldn’t face it now. The woman began to descend back into chaotic cries of pain and protest against the daughter who strove to nurse her, and I was too distressed by the fearful scene to stay much longer._

_For hours I roamed the wet streets of Liverpool, walking briskly to try and shake off my sorrows, but every corner I turned would bring fresh horrors with it. Each step uncovered another painful memory! In time I realised that isolating myself was only intensifying my inner turmoil, and so I returned defiantly to assure Minnie that I would fulfil her wish. But I was too late. In the time that I had spent selfishly indulging in my own sadness, my keeper had departed the world of the living._

_Philomena sat absolutely still by her mother’s body, unable to utter a word. Quietly, I urged her away from the bed, shifting her light, lithe form to her own room, for there was something very macabre about her staying in this deathly place. Once she had been safely removed, I took hold of the sheets of Minnie’s bed and placed them over her white face, which looked as if it were sunken just into a deep sleep. Subdued, knowing that she would now no longer be in pain, I retired to my own bed, deciding that I would arrange for the undertakers to claim her tomorrow morning._

_I was woken by a nightmare in the pitch darkness, and my restlessness drove me to check that the girl in the room next door was dealing adequately given the situation. Still she sat, petrified; her eyes dark and heavy, telling me that she had not slept one wink. She was staring at the wall intently, biting her lips in a silent, woeful fury._

_“Phil? Are you alright?” I asked, and her stupor was broken. She jerked her head to register me like a frightened animal, but seeing that it was only a friend, calmed at once._

_“Oh, stop fussing. I’m a grown woman.” She grimaced._

_“I know, but…your mother-“_

_Her eyes were suddenly full of fire. “Please tell me you’ll do it, Matthew! Please- promise me!” She begged, almost viciously, as if she’d cause me bodily harm if I did not obey._

_“Do what?”_

_“Go back. Go back to Dominic and finish off this business between you two.”_

_I broke into a sweat. “Phil, I can’t- he might be married by now!”_

_“So? What does that count for? Marriage is just a word. If I’ve learnt anything from my life here, it’s that marriage and ceremony mean nothing. Love is what matters, and you love him. An idiot could see that nobody could ever love him like you do. Whoever he’s married- they don’t have the right to him that you do.” She looked around herself frantically, and seeing a drawer, lunged for it. In her hand I could see a fistful of notes which she’d snatched from the dusty compartment. “Take this, and go. Get out of here and go back to him.” She got up swiftly and pressed the notes into my hand. It was no fortune, by any means- but it would be enough for a cab to take me back to the Dales._

_My heart was breaking to leave her, but there could be no convincing the girl. “But what about you?”_

_“I’ll be fine. There are people I can turn to besides you. And I swear, Matthew, if I find out you haven’t done what Mother told you to, I’ll come up there and …” She smiled bravely through a thin shine of tears. “…And break your legs.”_

_Oh, how I adored her! And how strong she was, despite her pain. “I’d best do it, then.” I smirked, crumpling the notes in my fist._

_And so now, this morning, I have begun my flight. I have new courage in me, strengthened by my will to satisfy those who have trusted me. There shall be no more denying the past, there will be no delay; II will be with you before you know it, I’m sure, and then there shall be nothing, no boundary, nobody who can ever come between us._

 


	22. Chapter 22

**XXII**

_29 th March 1917-_

_Delayed again! It seems that the world is attempting to throw every conceivable boundary in my path to you- as if it were not difficult enough already- but rest assured that this time, I think I have really landed on my feet._

_The cabbie in Liverpool was a rather slug-brained fellow, to say the least. I paid him my fare and bade him take me to Ingleton, but the fool said he didn’t know where it was. Imagine! Naturally I was inflamed by his stupidity, but by that time he had already set off, so I told him to at least take me as far as Settle. After that, I would attempt to make my own way to my hometown, as was my plan. He seemed to have knowledge of that place (as I should expect!) and so we began trundling across the countryside, back to the sighing valleys of my sweet Yorkshire._

_When I arrived in the town, I found that I still had a small amount of money left, but it would only give me a place to stay for the night, and nothing more. Oh, if only I’d gone straight to Ingleton! Then I could have slipped gracefully back into the home I knew, without all this doddering around inbetween- I was at a loss at what to do. I did not spend my money- I wished to save it, wait for the most beneficial opportunity to arrive, but the further on the day stretched, I knew I was beginning to run out of time. I needed some habitation overnight. I was lamenting my failure by five o’clock, certain that my journey had come to an end here, but then, as if guided by some generous spirit, my eyes found a most intriguing man in the crowd._

_He was not tall, but very finely dressed compared to the townspeople. There seemed to be an austere butler following the middle-aged, greying man around the markets, which were just closing, in his hurry around the stalls. He seemed to have an intrinsic sadness; as if some tragedy had befallen him years ago and marred his countenance eternally with its bereavement. There was something bizarrely attractive about him; I felt I needed to speak to him, as if my destiny had linked me to him, and as he perused a box of apples frantically, his gaze rose, and met mine. He seemed to have the very same unfounded interest in me, too, but it was soon broken as the stall-woman began to pack away her stock for the day, and soon I was watching the man and his butler’s backs shrinking away into the distance and into a jet-black car as slick as oil._

_I rushed over quietly to the woman, and asked her, “Who is that man?”_

_She jerked at seeing me. “Him?” She nodded at the car rolling down the road into the further mountains. “That’s Mr Beecham.”_

_“Where does he live? What does he do?” And the woman seemed a bit peeved by my strange curiosity, but obliged._

_“He lives in a manor in the moorland, all on his own save for his servants. He’s a nobleman.”_

_“Why does he live alone?”_

_“His family died a long time ago- I think I heard rumours that he used to have a son, or something-but the child went missing, and he never really recovered. At least, that’s what they say around here, but I’m really not sure.”_

_And you can imagine how that inspired me-a lost son! A wealthy man’s lost son- this must have been put in my path on purpose, surely-I asked if the woman could help me find a way to Mr Beecham’s manor straight away, and she directed me to her son, who owned a hay-cart. I paid the lad, and he agreed that tomorrow morning, after a stay over in their house, he would allow me a detour in the manor’s direction._

_From what I could see through the coiling black gates the next morning, the place was absolutely divine; the great ornamental gardens flowed down from large, commanding doors, a beautiful sea of flowers decorating the lower level, and the windows shining in the golden sunlight.  It lay in the small settlement of Horton-in-Ribblesdale, walled by fierce, russet valley slopes. I knew, upon seeing it, that this was the sort of place that would make anyone love you; no matter how proud or stubborn they might be. This was Falcon Manor; a place fit for a king._

_I waited patiently outside the gates for someone to speak to, and eventually, the same sharp-faced butler from before passed by, briefly spotting me before double-taking and dashing over to the doors to investigate._

_“Dear God,” he exclaimed. “How long have you been out here? You’re shivering!”_

_“I’ve come to speak to Mr Beecham, Sir.” I announced through the bars._

_He sneered indignantly. “I am sorry, Sir, but this is a private residence. Take yourself back to wherever you come from. Good day.” And he turned his back on me, marching off down the garden path! I could see my future marching away from me, so I stretched my hand through one of the gaps, and shouted:_

_“Sir! Sir, please let me in! I’ve come to ask Mr Beecham about his son!”_

_The butler came to a total halt halfway down the path, and turned his head. He fumbled in his pocket, fishing out a key and striding back to address me. “You’d better come in then, Sir,” he muttered darkly, and the gates of paradise were opened to me._

_He led me in, and god!-the inside is even more grand than the out. Every feature is lined with gold and marble, the dinner table is large enough for all of Ingleton, the chandeliers, the staircase! Need I go on, Dominic? It is heaven- it must be- I feel like a prince within these walls. They are even rich enough to afford a telephone! Though I have spent much time amongst the poor- perhaps they are a common luxury now. Do you have one at home, I wonder?_

_Up those saintly stairs lay an office, where I was told that Mr Beecham would be waiting. I entered, trembling with anticipation._

_The solemn man sat at his desk, surrounded by bookcases with their shelves filled to the brim. He appeared to be doing absolutely nothing; I swear, he barely noticed me, simply staring ahead into the void, his hands clasped with his face resting morosely on their clenched form. I had never seen a man look so miserable in all my life- he was worse even than William in his mourning for your mother. He seemed so utterly listless that I wondered how he had managed to go on so long in life when it clearly had no appeal for him anymore._

_“Mr Beecham?” I asked, and I think he was stirred from a dark place when he saw me._

_“Oh-did Finch let you in here?”_

_I stole a glance behind me at the butler, who was trotting back downstairs. “Yes- I think so.”_

_He narrowed his eyes. “Did I see you yesterday in Settle?”_

_“Yes, you did, Sir. I came here because I heard about your son.”_

_He sat up with a jolt, and I lurched backwards in alarm. “My son?” His dark eyes began to shine gloriously. “Do you know anything about him?”_

_“I think I might, Sir. I think I know where he is right now.” And I know, Dominic, I know that I did not have enough proof to chase this end- I didn’t really believe it myself- but I knew it would help me, and that I could at least give this poor old fellow a bit of joy for once. “I think I might be your son, Mr Beecham.”_

_His mouth fell open. “No- no, that’s impossible. Are you trying to get money off me?” He snarled woefully, rising from his seat._

_“I’m not! I’m not!” I protested. “I was an orphan- I was abandoned- a family adopted me, in 1903!”_

_He seemed to quieten, and I thought I saw tears tremble in his eyes. “Dear God.” He whispered, covering his mouth gravely. “It-it could be you. It really could- What’s your name, boy?”_

_I puffed out my chest. “Matthew Bellamy, Sir.”_

_“Matthew,” he mused, acclimatising to the name, as if he intended to use it more often. “Do sit down. I wish to talk to you.”_

_He doesn’t look that different to me, Dominic. If you can picture him-tawny brown hair, a similar shaped nose, and similar-shaped eyes- but not the same colour. I really was starting to believe it myself._

_“Sir-if I might ask- what were the conditions of your son’s disappearance?”_

_He took a very deep breath, and shook his head sadly. “It’s a tragic affair, really. I’d never seen his face.” He bit his lip, and seemed about to cry, but remained resolute to continue. “But long ago- must be almost twenty years gone, now- I was visiting a business partner in York, and I fell in love with an Irish serving-girl, the maid of one of the businessmen there. Her name was Lucy, Lucy Pendleton. Young and still so full of spirit as I was, I begun an affair with her, and cared very little for the consequences. I swore to her that one day, we would marry, and she would live in this house with me, and my business would provide for the both of us. She would be lady of the manor, and we would live out our days in these sunny gardens.”_

_I nodded encouragingly, and he went on. “Or so I thought! For of course, things are never so easy. My family objected to the thought of me marrying below myself, and as well as the furious reaction of her rather possessive master, I was urgently needed back home. I hastened back here, and promised her that one day, we would be reunited, and our dreams would be made reality. But work piles up; the years charge on like an unstoppable stampede, and trample our plans into dust. I always intended to visit, or to write, but it was only three years later that I ever heard from her again. It was good news, thank God; the best news I could possibly have imagined. Her master had intercepted her letters in the past, but now that she had revealed that the three-years child she had borne a while since was mine, he had insisted that she come to me and that our wedding would be held immediately.”_

_But then his face began to darken with morbidity. I knew that the next twist in the tale would not be the vision of loveliness he had pictured. “ I waited for the carriage that would bring her to my arms eagerly; I savoured the warmth of her in my arms again, the re-living of the most magical moments of my life, and my son!- How I desperately awaited his arrival, the child I had not known until now, my heir- the very product of our love. But the carriage never arrived. The horses were spooked by a storm, and the carriage lost its balance on a winding mountain path. The whole vehicle was sent spiralling over the edge, spilling out its living cargo and dashing them on the rocks below. I got word of it a few days later- and I was on the very end of my tether. I thought I would not be able to go on, for it was confirmed that all of the passengers, including my dearest Lucy, were dead. All of them- except for the child, who had gone unaccounted for, and though he might well have run off to seek some assistance, we all presumed that the vicious weather and the cruel, deadly terrain which had already torn his mother from him would have been the end of him, too.”_

_By this point he was greatly anguished, and seemed to have to restrain himself from total devastation. I felt greatly for the poor man- yet excitement began to bubble away in my chest, for not only was the story close enough to mine to convince him, it was so close that I thought that it was every bit as possible as I’d hoped that the man before me really was my father, and I—and I was rightful heir to his manor!_

_“I was found out on the moors,” I mentioned quietly, and he regarded me with awe._

_“It must be you,” He said, getting up fussily. “I won’t- I can’t deny your resemblance to her anymore. The moment I saw you, I saw her eyes set in your face! I won’t question you anymore- I insist that you stay here and dine with me tonight, and we will make arrangements for your permanent accommodation here first thing in them morning!”  And suddenly, Mr Beecham was filled with vitality- and he went out of the room wittering away about how queer it was for his son to be reduced to nothing but a mere peasant boy when all of his riches were belonging to me._

_I stay tonight in his regal abode; what a haven I have found this time, Dominic! And how happy I have made him already- who knows what glamorous things await me here, in the very lap of luxury?_

_-_

_31 st May 1918-_

_Dear Dominic,_

_I have remained here in Falcon Manor for over a year now. It is a sumptuous life indeed- one that I have become quite familiar with. At first it was new, and frightening; I had to acquaint myself with a whole new set of social codes, learning the importance of courtesy and gentility, things I am sure you can attest were things I lacked somewhat before now. But gradually, I have picked them up, and I find myself rather suited to this life of the sublime and the exquisite._

_George- my father, as he believes himself to be- is quite an excellent man. His old coldness is gone now; he is so grateful for my apparent return that he bestows any gift I desire upon me instantly, and with the greatest affection. I have wardrobes stuffed to the gills with fine suits and lace-embroidered shirts, magnificent maritime landscapes framed on my walls, my own private library (which has supplied a novel as a hiding-place and preservation for my rather tattered letters to you), training in shooting which he supplied himself out on the hills, and tutoring in literature, history and geography, which I always desired, and now have a comprehensive knowledge of. But it is all very dreary once the distractions are gone- I came back here to find you, and now find myself wallowing in pointless lavishness- or at least that’s how it seems, when I am alone in my chamber with nothing to entertain me but the darkness in my mind._

_I am upset, Dominic. I am very troubled indeed. I have been ordering newspapers from Ingleton for months now, sending Finch out in the car to pick them up. I excused my strange actions as a wish to keep an eye on the family I thanked for my adoption in the past- but a few days hence, I saw the news in the announcements that I had feared for so long. I was quietly reading in the study when I saw it- that hateful, fiendish news!- you and Tess are married._

_I know I had long expected that you would marry, but I was not prepared for the sting that the notion would bear once it was made harsh reality. I felt my stomach drop when I saw the names- I felt dreadfully, dreadfully sick, and my chest ached- my cheeks grew hot and my hands shook, and eventually I could contain my horror no longer. I cried out in insuppressable anger, rending the paper in two before furiously tearing it into tiny shreds and showering them about in a sombre cloud. George must have heard; he ran into the study looking quite concerned, and to hold back the villainous sobs, I stuck the back of my hand into my mouth, and clamped down hard with my teeth._

_“Matthew? My son, whatever is the matter?” He cried, running over to me and guiding me to a seat, where I still could not look at him. I could no naught but stare at the ground, shaking like a madman. It was the worst shock I had suffered in a very long time now- her! That same girl, after all these years? I still retain my childish rivalry with her, the same girl who diverted your attention from me- in that moment I hated her as much as I ever had, and felt betrayed by you a hundred times over._

_But my father could know nothing of the real cause of my distress. “The girl I loved back home is married.” I whimpered, gesturing flinchingly at the particles of paper still floating to the floor._

_“Oh, my poor boy! Be still, now- I understand that it’s a horrible thing to bear-but you’ll love again, won’t you? Mrs Galloway is bringing her daughters this afternoon- will that make you feel any better?”_

_“I highly doubt it will, Father- I think I must spend some time alone.” I excused myself then. So many women he’s tried to marry me off to! It makes me feel sick- I wish I could explain, I do- that every lavish party he hosts here only makes me realise how lonely I am inside, how incomplete I am without you._

_I went out onto the hills that afternoon, and took my rifle with me. It was a groggy day indeed; harsh, misty, and obscure. The moisture got everywhere as it breathed over me. I marched through heather-patches, knowing I had to take out my frustration on something- I think, as I ended the life of the grouse I found that afternoon, I envisaged that each one was Tess Howard._

_I know now that my actions were childish- I must reassure myself that she is not my real enemy- but the feelings that stirred them are the same. I am empty without you. I feel as if I will die along with my hope if I give up on my return to you now._

_-_

_27 th October 1921-_

_Dear Dominic,_

_George has not been well these past few days, and forgive me, but there is pleasure to be found in knowing that he may not live much longer. I do not hate the man- who could, knowing what he did for me?- but it is his constant presence which has clipped my wings, which has stopped me from flying home over these mountains and sailing back to you. To have returned to you again in his lifetime would have stained his name and honour forever, and I cannot do that to him. But when he dies, he will return to that Lucy Pendleton, who may have been my mother, and he will be happy. And I? I shall find home in my beloved’s arms, too._

_It cannot be long to wait now. I am so very, very close- the thought that you might have seen Finch in Ingleton greatly excites me- it would be so easy for me to see you again now, if only the time were right. I stood this morning in the moorland terrain of the house’s grounds, and realised with striking glee that this fine, crisp autumn day, where there isn’t a single cloud in the frigid sky, I could see the summit of Ingleborough._

_Our time is nearing, Dominic. It may be a few weeks- days, even- before we are reunited. I am breathless with the anticipation of seeing you once more, and when I come, I shall be lord of the manor. The most glorious days of my life await me, I know it! And soon, very soon, I think you shall be reading this very letter, along with all the others, and be amazed to know the life I have somehow managed to live without you- without my soul!_

_Here’s to our swift reunion, more-than-brother._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Matthew._

_P.S I told you I would return in good time!_


	23. Chapter 23

**XXIII**

 

Weeks passed as I read, and through their duration Matthew continued to visit us. He did not yet make any more attempts on me, yet remained strangely reserved and agreeable, which was totally out of line with his normal behaviour. I shall never forget the day he met Christopher again- my friend seemed to have seen a ghost, and his jaw hung open as he shook a limp hand with the man whom he had been certain he would never see again.

My reading of the letters, regrettably, had altered my perception of Matthew. Knowing how he had forged out his life in the years of his disappearance gave me some sympathy for him, and there were moments, albeit brief, where I truly felt for him- those fleeting moments where he would be quiet and distant, and I would see the man who had written to me in his eyes, and I felt the weight of his tremendous sufferings on my own heart. But I could never bring myself to trust him. There was no proof that he had done half the things he claimed to have done. How was I to know that Jamie, Minnie, Philomena, all the others- weren’t just fictional, invented to culture empathy in me? What if his life had been infinitely more wicked than he would ever let me know? For all I knew, Mr Beecham might be a fairy-tale, too- maybe he’d seized his house and riches through criminal exploitations instead.

But Matthew was the very least of my worries at this time.

-

_Charlotte Lowe’s Diary, 1922-_

_January 10 th._

_After months and months of waiting and hours of toil, we have been blessed by the presence of a baby within our walls. It was last night- I’ll tell, in a minute, how stressful it all was, all the villainy that made it such a struggle to welcome the darling creature, but I will assure you now that the baby Miss Tess bore early this morning is a bonny and healthy youngling._

_My anger and blame this day is aimed largely, however, at the father of the child. I don’t know why- he was well aware that it was due any day now, and Tess was complaining of what she thought might be the contractions since the middle of the night before- so he should have had the common sense to stay with her, had the honour to do that at the very least, just stay- but he didn’t! I can barely believe it._

_Matthew turned up around lunchtime, swaggering around like he owned the place, and invited Dominic over to his manor in a way that gave the man very little choice about the matter. Dominic, putting up very little of a fight despite his obvious reluctance, got up miserably from his meal and slunk off away from us. I felt really quite puzzled and wary about that; I stopped buttering the bread, and tapped him on the shoulder just as he was leaving, that ghostly car with its shadowy chauffeur waiting to swallow him up on the front path._

_“Dominic,” I whispered. “Where are you going? I fear Miss Tess might go into labour soon!”_

_He started, staring frantically at Matthew and myself in turn, visibly panicking. “I-I promise I won’t be long, Mrs Lowe. But I must go-it’s very important.”_

_“Important? What could be more important than the birth of your child?!”_

_“I’ll be back by three,” He spat, wanting to hide our conversation from his friend, who was slyly eyeing us from the lawn. “I promise.”_

_I sighed. “You’ll have hell to pay if you aren’t.”_

_He dashed after his friend after a nasty sneer at me, getting into the car with a ghastly look on his face. I didn’t know why Matthew felt this meeting of theirs was so urgent- or why it was so secretive- and it made me feel very anxious. I can’t say Matthew makes me feel very comfortable at all, now that the novelty of his reappearance has worn off. I’ve been to his manor myself- it is a very great and beautiful place- but there is such a fragility to it, such a strange darkness lurking in every corner; it comes from Matthew, I’m certain. There is something not right about that man, and no good can come of him fraternizing with Dominic, as would soon be proven._

_Of course, Tess was very dismayed to hear that her husband had gone, and her emotions were all over the place. Her pains were getting worse, too, and so I took a quick trip to the Wolstenholmes to fetch the pair of them- Manon was a midwife back in France, and I thought she could do us some good.  Gradually, it became quite obvious that Tess was very, very agitated, and her labour was imminent. We called the doctor, who brought another midwife with him, and laid her to bed in preparation. It was already three by then, and there was no sign of Dominic whatsoever! Tess began to ask after him, asking to see him before it started, but I was sorry to say that he was not back yet, which sent her into another round of tears._

_It has always upset me very much to see Tess cry, so I thought I would chase up her errant husband and demand that he return no matter what his business with Matthew was. I telephoned the manor’s number, and listened for the dial for far too long before someone eventually picked up. I made to speak to them, but they had not uttered a word before the phone was slammed back down onto the receiver, and my contact with them was broken. I stood there, stupefied, for a few seconds. Who could hang up like that, at a time as vital as this? If it was Dominic, I was irate. If it was Matthew, I was horribly confused and afraid. I tried to call again, but the same happened, and then I began to hear the first awful cries of pain from upstairs._

_What a vile thing Dominic is to have deserted her! God in heaven only knows what he was up to, what vapid thing he was doing when his dear wife needed him most! About an hour later, Christopher arrived to see me crying, both from stress and anger, and asked me what the matter was, though I think he could tell from the absence of the master of the house. He said he’d try the line again, and see if he could coax a reply from that mysterious house. He succeeded, amazingly, and after a strong-worded conversation he reported back that Dominic would be arriving shortly._

_I couldn’t stand the screams from upstairs; I’ve no experience with childbirth, and didn’t know if they were normal or not, fearing that she might not survive. I waited with great horror with Christopher as we waited for Dominic to arrive, and here’s what troubles me the most- the crossing over the hills from Falcon Manor should only take an hour maximum, but it was not until six o’ clock that the car finally rolled up on the lawn. Christopher’s son, who had been crying on the step outside because of all the confusion, yelped a warning to his father and myself- I could have cried from the relief of hearing it._

_Dominic flew from the car as if his life depended on it- and so he should have done!- but Matthew, surprisingly, was just as eager to get inside. I almost didn’t let him in- part of me wanted to berate him for causing all this trouble- but he seemed so aghast, so desperate, that I thought better of standing in his way. The pair of the climbed the stairs rapidly, and I followed them to the room upstairs where the woman lay, still screaming. They only got one peep inside before I tugged them back out, warning that it was best for them to stay out of the experts’ way._

_Before me, I beheld three men in the upstairs corridor, waiting just as wearily as I. The first was the expecting father himself; he was worryingly sobered, stood absolutely still, breathing irregularly and looking very sick and pale. Christopher was rubbing his hands, eyes fixed on the bedroom door, fidgeting constantly in an attempt to calm himself but still obviously concerned, and Matthew had sat himself by the skirting board, hands clasped and eyes lowered but for fluttering glances stolen at the room in question, his breathing slow as if in meditation, and I noted around every third glance was aimed at the deathly-looking Dominic with a strange combination of worried interest and impish scheming. As the night went on, the three of them grew more and more agitated, and more short-tempered. At about eight, Matthew eventually grew so tired of waiting for something to happen that he thundered back downstairs, and Christopher followed, breathily excusing himself to go for a walk to comfort himself._

_I endured a few very quiet, strange moments with Dominic alone for company, but his deathlike gaze was very unsettling indeed and convinced me that something very odd was troubling him indeed- perhaps nothing to do with his wife’s current state._

_“What happened at the Manor?” I snapped mutedly. I had to ask; my curiosity was plaguing me._

_He jolted out of his trance and glared at me. “Nothing. We argued, mainly. ”_

_“Why did you take so long getting here?”_

_“We went the wrong way on the drive here- Matthew was driving, and he was in a foul mood-he wouldn’t listen to my directions, I thought he might have driven us off a cliff, Charlotte-it was horrid-”_

_“Who had the cheek to put the phone down on me twice?”_

_He gaped at me, beginning to shake. “It-I don’t know.”_

_“He didn’t have some other woman at his house, did he?” I snarled, tiring of his cryptic answers despite the risk that he would discipline me for my insolence._

_He gulped, and turned his eyes away. “No!-No-why would you even suggest that, Charlotte? Believe me- nothing happened!”_

_I didn’t believe a word he said. There was something very suspicious behind it, I knew it, and I vowed that I’d find out eventually. Perhaps, I thought, I could coax some answers of manor’s resident. I escaped the horrid atmosphere, fleeing downstairs, and eventually stumbled upon Matthew sat on the very same armchair he’d first languished on when we rescued him from the moor. I felt very nostalgic, upon seeing him, and sad; for this couldn’t be the same innocent child we’d once cared for, could it? What a monster he had become!_

_He looked absolutely pitiful; his head was in his hands, and he was blathering on about some nonsense, something about having one-hundred illegitimate children in Liverpool, from which I could decode no proper sense, and the drinks cabinet was wide open. On the side-table was a bottle of gin, and a glass which was shining softly with a negligible amount of liquid._

_“Sir? Are you well?” I asked, knowing that he would be grievously inebriated._

_“No, madam, I am not.”_

_“Have you been drinking? What would William think, Matthew?”_

_“I’m sure he’d applaud my decision, considering the circumstances of his death.” He grumbled, revealing his face only to pour himself another glass of gin, and to down the lot instantly, looking even more ill and grizzly afterwards._

_I frowned, for he was making himself look utterly wretched with that stuff, and I had lost one master to the drink already. “Perhaps you should go home, Matthew. You look very ill.”_

_He laughed dryly, alcohol stinking on his breath. “Oh, how I’d love to go home! How I wish I could leave- but I can’t, I just can’t.”_

_“Whyever not, Sir?”_

_He rubbed his face groggily. “I have to be here when the child’s born. I simply must be.”_

_“There’s no ‘must’ about it. I’m sure Dominic won’t mind if you leave. He’ll understand.”_

_“No, he won’t!” He cried loudly, frightening me. “He doesn’t understand anything! He lives in his own head- he doesn’t care! He doesn’t care about me- he’s so shallow that he can’t comprehend the feelings I harbour! There are puddles out in the garden deeper than him!” And he got up, glass in hand, swaying awfully backwards and forwards, a menacing grimace etched onto his face._

_“Matthew! Calm down!” I called, but it was too late- his rage had reached a destructive level, and in woeful anger he threw the glass across the room, obliterating it against the fireplace. “Oh! Now look what you’ve done! You’re blind drunk! Go home- I shall call your butler over!”_

_At this he looked seriously insulted and surged up to me quickly and aggressively. I could barely let out a sound- the next thing I knew, his hand was in the air, there was a loud bang; my face smarted as if it had been hit by a flying projectile, and I fell. “Don’t tell me what to do!” I heard him bellow as I writhed in pain on the seatee, still reeling from the shock of the attack. “You are a servant. You are nothing. How dare you try to order me around?!”_

_I was unable to process what had just happened. I had never experienced this level of cruelty, not in all of my years serving this family- not even when William and his son were ill- and I am getting very old now; I could not believe that Matthew had that much aggression in him to attack an elderly woman! I was too stricken by the awfulness of it all to even protest as he continued in his verbal abuse._

_I heard someone enter, and according to my blurred vision from the horizontal perspective I now had, I eventually recognised Christopher, come back from his walk and now attempting to subdue my attacker. Matthew resisted fiercely, but Christopher was stronger, as he had always been, and eventually led the fiend out of the parlour and away from where I was trying to recover. Luckily, there was no wound, and the bruise was barely noticeable. I didn’t want to make a fuss about the incident; I reassured myself that it was just the drink that had brought out that violent streak in him, and the stress of the current situation._

_The waiting after that was very quiet, and sinister; Dominic maintained his post in the corridor, Christopher kept Matthew pounded in one of the bedrooms to sober him up, and I sat in the parlour, comforting the still-nervous little boy that his auntie would be absolutely alright, and soon he would have a new cousin. I think I gained more comfort from him, if I’m honest; assurance that there were still tender people left in the world who had not yet been claimed by the hatefulness of adulthood._

_It all came to its climax at midnight; Manon exited the room, sniffing around to find the scattered family members around the house, and gathered us all in the bedroom. There, Miss Tess lay, barely awake, with a tiny pink creature nestled in her arms, cooing softly. We all admired her with awe-Dominic especially, as he crouched by her side to let the tiny baby grasp his little finger- even Matthew, who had now recovered from his bout of drunkenness, could not help but be mesmerised by the scene. Despite that, the moment he felt he’d seen enough, he quickly took his leave. Christopher had insisted on driving him home, much to Matthew’s protest, sure that the villain would surely kill himself driving out there in the dark when he was still not totally lucid._

_As you can see, last night was a night of so much terror for us, but now we have some new life to entertain us, a splendid baby girl, which makes things that much better. Tess is stubborn; she will call the child Penelope, after her mother. I hope that the following nights will not be so chaotic, and that perhaps now he has a newborn child to attend to, Dominic will not be so unreliable anymore._

 


	24. Chapter 24

**XXIV**

Dominic Howard’s diary, 1922-

_13 th January-_

_Mother and child are awake and very well this afternoon. From the racket my poor wife was making the night of the birth, I was afraid that one or both of them- god forbid it- might not survive the ordeal. But here they are, radiant as angels, and I am thankful that I have been spared both of them. Tess is still unhappy with me, though. I do not think she has quite yet forgiven me for being late that night. She devotes all of her attention to our darling child, yet will glare at me wildly if I dare intrude in their peace- and I cannot blame her for it. The way I have behaved, I feel like I have no right to partake in the joy of nursing our daughter. For that reason, I can’t make much of a comment on how fatherhood has altered my life yet._

_Everyone is angry at me for staying at the manor too long. What more can I do but apologise? I haven’t lied to anyone about anything- all we did was argue, and it was Matthew’s fault it took so long to get home. He was being so irrational, so childish; he didn’t get his way, so he insisted on ruining the rest of the night for me, and in turn, my first days with my daughter. It seems nothing’s really changed- he still doesn’t care about his fellow man._

_That much was only proven further today, when Christopher decided to pay his newly-anointed goddaughter a visit. Ever since we had discovered that Tess was with child, we had known that we would choose Christopher and Manon to be its godparents. It was the sensible choice- they were, after all, our closest living relatives and friends. But ever since Matthew returned, that has somehow come into question- that was one of the things we were fighting about. Matthew seemed absolutely convinced that he should be the godfather- that it was somehow his right, and I vehemently denied him that; the choice had already been made, we had already promised to our neighbours that the title would be theirs. Of course, that sent him off into a mad rage. I don’t see why it concerns him so much- why should he care so much about the offspring of a marriage which he thinks should never have taken place?_

_My fears for his mind have been deepened today. Christopher not only told me of his outrageous violence towards our housekeeper, but he had a story of his own to tell. When in desperate measures, Christopher usually resorts to tolerance and understanding- but he must have been tormented indeed to have seemed so angry when we spoke before the fire today. He was very eager to speak to me alone; I knew it would be something awful, if he didn’t want Tess to know. I also had some gut feeling that it would concern my brother’s feelings for me._

_“Dominic,” he began, teeth gritted and voice low. “I need to speak to you about Matthew.”_

_“Why? What’s happened?” I enquired, already nervous for what might follow. My companion rubbed his face tiresomely and clenched his powerful fists as if he had to physically restrain himself from taking out his anger on the surroundings. I have rarely been as afraid of him as I was now._

_To my surprise, he hadn’t come to challenge me about my behaviour on the night of the birth. “Last night,” He took a breath to steady himself, and continued. “Last night, I was woken up at about two o’clock in the morning. I was woken by the sound of one of my bedroom windows smashing.”_

_I gasped, and he motioned for me to listen. “I had no idea what had caused it at first. Then, I heard a voice out in the cold- coming from where the crash had come. It sounded so fierce and insistent, and yet familiar- it kept calling, ‘Let me in! Let me in, you big brute!’ Naturally, I was irate, and looked out of the window to see what troublemaker had dared to vandalise my house- but I felt coldness shoot through me to see Matthew stood outside, a hunting-rifle in his arms.”_

_I trembled. “Great Scott- what for?”_

_“He’d used it to shoot through the window. I didn’t know if it was still loaded, but I felt something had to be done, or he’d start shooting again; I felt I had to comply, for my family’s safety.  By now, the children were screaming, and Manon was distressed by it all, as one would be from having one’s house come under fire- I stormed down the stairs, and flung open the door, and did all I could to stop myself from grabbing that scoundrel’s neck and strangling him for his recklessness._

_’God-! Are you out of your mind?! ‘ I cried, satisfying my fury by shouting it out. ‘What are you doing, you idiot? You could have killed someone!’_

_At that he dropped his desperate antagonism, and looked very meek and self-pitying. ‘Oh, forgive me, Christopher. I was just ever so eager to see you.’ He said, though I didn’t believe a word of it. I knew there was some sinister business going on._

_‘That doesn’t excuse this.’ I warned him, though he didn’t look very sorry. ‘Put that down this instant. What do you want, at this ungodly hour?’_

_‘I wish to be let in. I have a bone to pick with you.’ He said, and I almost laughed in his face at his arrogance! To think he could be so rude as to ask a favour from me, having just damaged my window!-but I’ve known Matthew a long time. He can be a thoughtless fool, but inside his concerns are serious. I knew better than to ignore him. When I asked what he wanted to see me about, he said it was to do with your daughter.”_ _I listened in sober silence, nodding after a long hesitation to prompt him to go on. What came next was of no great surprise to me._

_“I made sure he had no more weapons on him, which he didn’t, and I said he’d best come inside. My temper had subsided a little and I thought I might have enough patience left to hear him out. He was very, very upset- and I mean, really quite insulted- that you hadn’t chosen him to be Penelope’s godfather, and for that reason he had decided to challenge me over it. I tried to reason with him. I tried to explain that it was not my choice, and that I had to respect your decision as her father, but that only made him angrier. I had to try and subdue him, Dominic- he looked like he was about to tear his hair out! Have you spoken to him about it?”_

_“Yes,” I admitted quietly. “That was why we were arguing at the Manor. I refused to change my mind.”_

_He frowned a little and looked visibly afraid. “Are you sure that was the right decision?”_

_“Why wouldn’t it be? It was made before he came back- before we knew he was alive!”_

_“But I think he is dangerous in this state of agitation,” He cautioned me. “To others and to himself. It’s torturing him, Dominic.”_

_“Why does he care so intensely about her? I don’t understand it!”_

_“Isn’t it obvious?” He gasped. “Penelope is your daughter. He can’t help but care about her if she comes from you.”_

_I narrowed my eyes at him, not totally understanding his argument. He shook his head. “That wasn’t the only thing Matthew told me about,” He continued, in an even more serious tone than before. “The reason he wants some kind of parentage of this child is because his feelings for you have barely changed since the day you rejected him. Do you know what he said, Dominic, what he said to me? He said that though he hates you for what you did, he can’t stop caring about you. He says he wants to feed the dog that bit him. All he wants is to be a part of your life- why can’t you give that to him?”_

_“It’s not-“ I started, beginning to shake. “It’s not just that- you don’t understand!” I cried in exasperation. “You don’t know his real intentions- he wants so much more than just my attention, Christopher! He wants something I cannot give him!”_

_“Like what?”_

_I didn’t know what to say. What words were there to describe the enormity of his hunger? I was so strained by the thought that I was close to tears. “He wants me. He wants me all to himself, and he doesn’t want to share, not with Tess, or anyone. He means to destroy everything I have.”_

_He looked grim at that idea. “Are you sure? To me- to me he only looks like he needs your friendship.”_

_“To you?” I spat. “What do you know? The two times I followed your advice, I lost my closest friend, and then it drove me mad! Why should I listen to you anymore, when it only brings me pain? What on earth makes you think that you- or anyone, for that matter- knows Matt better than me? Nobody knows him better than I do!”_

_He looked hurt, and I realised how cruel I’d been, and apologised, but he waved it away. “I understand. I know that my help hasn’t made things better for you in the past. I’m sorry, Dominic. I’m sorry I ever intruded.” At that he got up and began to leave the room, but I grabbed his arm to stop him, afraid that without him to guide my thoughts, I’d get nowhere._

_“I didn’t mean it, Christopher. You know I didn’t. I need your help- truly, I do- I don’t know what else to do.”_

_He looked at me with mistrust, as if there were something under the surface of my skin that he didn’t believe, or was frightened of, but it passed, and he gave a humbled sigh. “I’m worried about him, Dom. He might not be as close to me as he is to you, but he is still my friend. I don’t want him to be hurt. Promise me you won’t ignore him anymore- promise me you won’t upset him anymore. I’m scared of what he might do otherwise.”_

_I nodded, shook his hand, and a few minutes later he took his leave. Inside, I felt cold, for to try and befriend Matthew again- properly, this time- was a daunting task. But it is something I must overcome. The way life is now is destroying us- all of us. We cannot live in this conflict; it must be resolved somehow, and if I must be the first to offer a ceasefire, then so be it. I shall not shirk my duty this time. There is more peace to be made before that, though- I hope that if I offer my most sincere apologies to Tess, then perhaps this time she will not turn them down._


	25. Chapter 25

**XXV**

_13 th February-_

_I think that Matthew and I are safely on the path to peace. He’d been distant of late; unwilling to contact any of us, being stung, perhaps, by my rejection of his request. I still will not withdraw my offering of the position to Christopher, but- but I will not let the distance between my brother and myself grow any further. He still has a place in my heart; he always will, I think, and I don’t want to penalise him for that any longer. I thought, after the shopping rounds this morning, I might have to go and actively seek the man out, but to my surprise, he was back at the house when I returned. Tess had let him in, saying she had missed him after his strange detachment from us all following the birth, for she does seem to get on well with him. She said that he was upstairs, and I investigated myself to see what he might have found to amuse himself there._

_He was in the bedroom we had shared as children, sat on my old bed; the one he once slept in has long since been discarded, in place of our daughter’s cot. There, he perched on the corner, the tiny baby in his lap gurgling amiably as he whispered some rhyme under his breath to her, a silver rattle shaking softly just within her playful grasp. It was an odd thing to see; gentleness is atypical of Matthew’s behaviour. I had rarely seen him be so quiet, and so tender with a young creature- part of me feared irrationally that he might, in one savage movement, crush the infant in his hands; but I suppose that was just the reasonless phobia of any doting parent._

_I myself have now been allowed permission to socialise with my daughter; the events of the night she was born have finally been forgiven, I think. She is beginning now to develop into a perfectly unique little person, and her bonny laughter is just about the most comforting thing that can be found in the world at present._

_I was stood at the door, staring at this unusual sight of peace for a good few minutes before Matthew registered my presence, though I think he knew I was there all along._

_“Oh, Dominic, there you are!” He laughed, his eyes sleepy but betraying no ill manners. “I was just speaking to dearest Penelope. She has marvellous eyes already, don’t you think? The shape of yours, but the colour of her mother’s.” The child in question made a little grunt, to which he responded by pressing the rattle into her miniature fingers._

_“Where’s that rattle come from?” I asked, noticing the startling shine of the object which must have been brand new._

_“I gave it to her. A present from her_ favourite uncle _.”  He replied, a degree of poison in the word which I was sure was aimed to hassle me for my choice. “Isn’t that right, my little darling?”_

_“Matt, I heard about your- conversation- with Chris.”_

_“Oh.” The baby stopped laughing, and his smile vanished too. “Yes?”_

_“And I would prefer if you didn’t threaten him and his family. I know you’re upset that you aren’t her godfather- I’m sorry about that- but the decision had already been made.”_

_He tossed his head dismissively, to my surprise. “Yes, yes…I accept that now, I suppose. But do let me spend time with the little one-!”_

_“Of course.”  I agreed. I could not deny that he had an uncharacteristic good nature when handling her. Perhaps she recognised that he was, in some way, family to her. But there was more reconciliation to be done than that. “Matthew, I’m sorry about the other night. I want us to be friends again.”_

_His smile seemed fragmented. “When did we stop?”_

_“I think you know what I mean. This hostility between us- it has to end.”_

_He looked very, very uneasy all at once, and clutched the silent baby much closer than before, as if he were afraid that she would be stolen from him. His face was so grim and so pale- like he’d just learnt of the death of a loved one, like all of his passion had been sucked dry- and then the moment passed, and he flushed again with life and joviality, leaving me to wonder if that passing moment of gripping fear had been nothing but my imagination._

_“We need to get on the way we used to- for Penelope’s sake.” I insisted, making sure my point was made. “It will do her no good to be surrounded by chaos.”_

_“The way we used to,” He repeated, nodding. “Indubitably.”_

_He spent the rest of the day at Saphney Hall, without even an air of violence about him. I am pleased with the outcomes of this afternoon’s conversation, and believe happier times are now in store. The bond between Matthew and my daughter has tapped into a hidden reservoir of tenderness which I think will do all of us good- perhaps he has put it behind him, at long last, all the rottenness in the past- just as I have._

_-_

_6 th April-_

_I should have known better than to think that Matthew would stick to his promise. What has happened today has left me very tense, and unsure of what to think- I can’t believe I trusted him! What kind of fool was I to think that there was even a slither of compassion in him? He’s just as much of a brute as he’s ever been._

_For weeks now, we’ve been getting on just as friends should- hunting together, dining together, visiting each other’s houses- I was so sure that it was over, at last, this stupid, pointless conflict- I thought that he had realised how every effort to get to me would be in vain, and that I had moved on, and he had, too- but I was wrong, as I seem to always be. I don’t know if the world I see through my eyes today is really a judgement I can trust._

_Tess had gone out with her brother this morning, and I thought that, rather than spending my time alone with the housekeeper, I might have a little friendly company. I picked up the telephone, and within the hour Matthew had arrived. He smiled as I ushered him in; something I have noticed he does more often these days. But it is not a genuine smile- no, it betrays a deep frustration, a suppressed anger which I am not sure he can hold back for very long. I tried to ignore how uncomfortable it made me- I tried to cater for him, and make him happy- we began to talk over a light lunch, and it was bizarre- utterly uncanny, the way a man so wild could nestle in our parlour, looking like he was trying so hard to blend in, to fit in with his surroundings- but it almost makes me laugh whenever I see him here. He doesn’t belong in such a quaint and peaceful place._

_But as I say, he must have bitten his wicked tongue almost all afternoon; we talked, and I was amazed at the fluid and cultured nature of our conversation. We reminisced of all sorts of things; of wild romps in the valley as children, of my father’s sorely missed routines and eccentric tendencies; I even asked him of the details of his journey, and wondered how he’d managed to survive the horror of the poison gas, how his barely-living body had somehow been dragged from the muck by some brave spirit- and he had replied that he hadn’t the faintest idea himself how he’d been found, but counted himself extremely lucky that the miracle had come about at all. For a while, it was bliss. He was delightful company, and the hours spun away like dandelion seeds dragged on by the wind._

_At about a quarter to four, he suddenly became quite alert, staring at the clock in indignation. “What’s the matter?” I asked him from my place on the seatee. “Why are you so excited all of a sudden?”_

_“When did Tess say she’d be back?” He murmured, not diverting his gaze from the clock-face._

_“Before four,” I replied. “Any minute now, actually. Why?”_

_He turned around rapidly, looking alerted and sharp-eyed. “Well- we must hurry now, mustn’t we?”_

_“Hurry at what?”_

_“Come on now- whilst she isn’t here,” He grinned, suddenly descending to my level. “Come on, kiss me!”_

_Before his arms could close around me I lashed out at him, smacking his head away from me. He stumbled backwards, knocking over the table with a loud crash, but I was so filled with ire at his actions that I cared very little for the damage it did._

_“Matthew-how dare you!”  I cried angrily, my face flushing hot. “What in hell makes you think I will accept that sort of behaviour from you now, just because I want to be friends? Are you out of your mind? Have you no self-control?!”_

_He rose up again with astonishing speed, my deterrence seeming to have done little to divert his intentions. “Pardon me, Dominic.” He began, with a smarmy grin that had a horrid, predatory edge. “You did say you wanted us to get on- just like we used to. You used to be very eager to be close to me, didn’t you-?”_

_He was cut off as the rage within me shot forth in the form of a rough blow to his face, knocking him back again into the empty fireplace. There was a sonorous knock of his head against the marble, though he wasn’t grievously hurt, there was a visible trickle of blood leading from his nose to his lips._

_“Shut your mouth!” I roared. “Don’t you dare twist my words like that- you know that’s not what I meant! Say something- go on, what do you have to say for yourself?”_

_I watched hatefully as he began to rise slowly up against the fireplace, hesitant and somewhat fearful in case I hit him again. He said absolutely nothing, instead choosing to watch me warily from under the rim of his brow, his bruises clear and hands splayed out, unprepared for retaliation._

_There was something enormously agitating about his sudden submissiveness to me- it was like I was in an absolute fit of violence, for when I spoke again, it was as if the voice was not mine, and the words I said didn’t seem to make sense. “Do you want to fight me, Matthew?” I urged him, shoving him in the side again, prompting nothing but a low, pained groan. “Go on, hit me! Hit me, you coward, don’t just stand there!”_

_“Dominic!” A voice rang from across the room. There was a rattle of footsteps, and the next thing I knew, my wife was between Matthew and myself, her hands on my shaking head. “ Oh my goodness, Dominic, what are you doing?” She turned around her to see where Mrs Lowe was attempting to pull Matthew back to his feet, and looked horrified at the state of his battered countenance. “Leave him- oh, God!”_

_Despite the soothing effect of her touch, I couldn’t ignore the prickling feeling in my fists. They still desired to strike him; to wipe that self-satisfied grin off his face, to taste that victory; but there was no such grin to destroy. He seemed to be playing the victim; still frowning and remaining mute, yet never taking his eyes off his attacker. With horror, I realised that they knew nothing of his advances, and though that I was the persecutor!_

_“He means to insult me, Tess, I can’t bear it!” I cried, close to sobbing with absolute vexation. I surged to get closer to him, to urge him to fight me again, but was held back once more._

_“Perhaps you should leave, Sir,” The housekeeper advised him, starting to nudge the silent man away from me and towards the door. Outraged, I shrieked at him to get out of my house before he could do any more damage._

_I sat with my head in my hands for a few minutes after he left, Tess hot on his heels to give some kind of undeserved apology. I saw that Mrs Lowe was hurting her back to pick up all the displaced ornaments off the floor, so I gave her some assistance; but when I drew close, she flinched, and shuffled away from me, eyes round with fear. I realised, then, what a terrible thing I’d done. I’d let myself fall into the grip of mindless violence, which was unjustified no matter what his crime._

_What has that man done to me? I have made my own family afraid, so wretched he has made me; look what I’ve had to resort to, on account of trusting him! I feel tonight like I must isolate myself; someone as troubled within, as heartless as myself deserves no human company._

_-_

_Charlotte Lowe’s diary, 1922_

_April 6 th._

_I should have known the peace between my master and Matthew was not going to last. Every time I saw them, I just knew- I just knew something was so unstable about the peace, as if their very natures defied it- as if it was tearing the world apart to sustain such a thing- and now, it’s been broken quite suddenly._

_I don’t know what happened to cause all the commotion; all I know is that there was a nasty crash from downstairs, and when I saw Miss Tess at the door, looking aghast, I knew something terrible had happened. I thought at first it would be an accident; but no, it was worse than that. Matthew was sprawling in the fireplace, blood all down his lips and his temples blistering purple- it was Dominic, can you believe- my own master- who had done it!_

_I tried to repair all of the mess they’d made; several glasses were smashed, and there were spots of blood on the rug- but I’m really having terrible pains in my back at present, and so bending over is not as easy as it once was. I couldn’t abide Dominic’s presence, either, not with that strange, bloodshot look in his eyes- it reminded me too much of when my old master was ill- so I thought I might hurry away and find out where my mistress had vanished to._

_From my place in the door, I saw her running down the path in pursuit of the victim, shouting for him to stop. Eventually, he came to a halt, the drive of anger and insult ceasing for a moment. It was a quiet, fresh spring day, and the wind was totally absent for once; I could hear almost every word that passed between them, and guess those that eluded my aging ears._

_“What did you do to make him so angry?” Tess asked, once she’d caught up. “I’ve never seen him so violent.”_

_Matthew sighed, and turned his livid face away, almost in shame- as if that was an emotion he could ever be capable of! “Oh, I’m not really sure what it was that set him off like that, Tess. He’s been very unwell since I first left- I understand he’s not completely in his right mind-but I only meant to repair our old friendship. It seems I cannot; he’s changed too much. I see that all I do is bring havoc to this house!-“ He seemed to wrestle with a sob for a few moments. “I’ll leave, shall I?” He began to head for the gate, but she snatched his wrist._

_“Oh, no! Don’t leave- he doesn’t mean what he said- and I think it might only make him worse.”_

_He twisted his mouth. “Perhaps I’ll come back in a few days, when he’s calmed down.”_

_“I don’t want for there to be a rift between you two- oh, I couldn’t bear it.”_

_He seemed to look up into the sky, over the hills, like he could somehow see his residence from here, and a smile began to ghost its way over his lips. “Maybe you should visit the manor sometime. We could discuss what to do about him further there, over a drink. If you’d like to, that is- in this state, he might get upset if he knew you were in contact with me- I’d hate to put you at risk.”_

_“Don’t worry. Dominic is good to me. I know he will trust me to do what is in his best interests.”_

_“Thank you, Tess. You are too kind.”_

_She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re my brother-in-law. It’s my duty to help my family.”_

_That said, she let the man go, and turned back to the door, flashing an apologetic smile at me and sweeping past to see to her husband._

_“Dominic? You look very frightened, my love- do calm down, now- he’s gone.”_

_The man in question had his head in his hands, beginning to calm down a little, but still agitated considerably, and looking very sorry for what he’d done. “Tess- I’m sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.”_

_She smiled in soft sympathy. “It’s alright now. Come on, let’s go upstairs.” She took a gentle hold of his fingers and tugged at them ever so slightly._

_Dominic, however, seemed unable to partake in her sociability, and shot up, frightening her a little. He didn’t seem violent, though; just very, very shaken, pale and hands still shaking. “I’m sorry, Tess- I think- I think I need to go for a walk.” He said meekly, and sidled past me, seeking the back door and the vibrant spring light that bounced over the grasses of the moor._

_Tess was upset by his absence; she doesn’t know why it’s put him in such a strange mood, or where all this aggression has come from. But I am less clueless. It’s a behaviour we haven’t seen in him for years now, yes- but I still remember his childhood, from when I was a younger woman. He and Matthew, despite being as close as two people can be, could never go a day without fighting about one thing or another. Sometimes it was playfights; sometimes, genuine ire fuelled their actions. I don’t think that it was just play this afternoon, and I can’t say that any of us have not been haunted by what has passed._

 


	26. Chapter 26

**XXVI**

After that day, I saw Matthew much less frequently. Tess would go and visit to make sure that he was recovering from my assumedly unprovoked attack, as they thought, but she rarely brought back any news, save for trivial tidbits which I cared very little for. I resented the idea of seeing him myself; from time to time, I’d accidentally catch sight of him in the village, and have to withdraw back to my home feeling a vile distaste and barely suppressible hatred.  It all made me increasingly unwilling to go out in public, and often, I’d send out Tess or Mrs Lowe to do errands in my place whilst I read strenuously in my study, trying to push away the violent thoughts that tore at each other in my mind, and seeking to find some relief in the peaceful, embryonic world of the house in which I was born.

I was unsociable concerning the outside world, yet was no closer to those with which I shared my home. Some nerve in me had been struck, damaged of late; whenever Tess made any affectionate advances, all that was beautiful in my eyes would suddenly shrivel up and die like rotting fruit- nothing in the world was fragrant or appealing anymore, and the very thought of human company made me feel sick as a dog. It was by no fault of her own; she had done no wrong. I only wish I could have overcome those nauseating feelings to give her what she should deserve from me, though I doubt she really expected me to. Eventually, she gave up in her efforts to stir me into life, and devoted her time instead to friends, family and our dearest Penelope.

That is one of my greatest regrets in life; that I did not give Tess what she wanted. She loved me with such intensity that I’m sure it gave her physical pain to sustain it, particularly when I was so blank and unresponsive to her presence. I have lived my life like a walking corpse, at her expense! And she has had to live with this empty husk of a husband, desiring something from him which he was simply to cowardly and weak to afford her!

-

Dominic Howard’s diary, 1922-

_5 th November-_

_I’ve been out with friends today for the first time in months. It’s terrible, I know, this reclusive behaviour of mine- shying away from human company whenever I can- but I managed to overcome it this afternoon, if only for a few hours. Chris called (Tess answered the phone, for I always find myself unsure of what to say when I don’t have a face in front of me)and asked if I’d like to go hunting somewhere in the hills. Pleased with that rather isolated location, and the fact that it would only be the two of us out there, I decided I could live with that much sociability. Perhaps he had become very concerned that it was unhealthy for me not to talk to anyone, and needed help- or, as it turned out, it could have been for the purpose of giving me a good talking to._

_We met on the gravel path between our houses, and began the long trudge to the southern foothills of Ingleborough, which shone in the greyish light that was descending from the thick blanket of cloud. The sky was frightening this morning; roll upon rolls of threatening, dark grey clouds, approaching from the north and commanding the awe of the hapless people below. Its wrathful curls of vapour promised a storm, it seemed, if we did not bow down to its might. But regardless, Christopher and I braved the looming darkness and strode into the whistling wilderness, still braced to pelt back home the moment the sky began to turn sour._

_Our walk was in silence. It was a horrid silence, too; I was glad I didn’t have to speak, but the emptiness in the air was filled by misty humidity, exacerbating the divide between my old friend and myself. I had a sort of mild fear in my chest that we would drift further and further apart; he had advised me to be good to Matthew, but I had physically hurt him. I was aware of an implied disappointment and weariness in his movements, largely aimed at myself. To lose him as a friend, as seems quite possible now, would be a tragedy indeed. Who will guide me, then? Who will direct me if I lose him? For I do not think I can steer this rickety ship to shore on my own._

_I knew, throughout the excursion, that he was not in the best mood with me, and after perhaps thirty minutes had elapsed out in the grasses, not a single bird having been felled due to my shaking hands, he finally chose to voice his discomfort._

_“What’s wrong with you, Dominic?”_

_“Excuse me?” I grumbled, not tearing my eyes from the aperture of the rifle._

_I could sense that he was becoming slowly more frustrated, even without looking at him. The sky seemed to shift and darken at my words, which filled me with a little drop of fear. “All this stowing away.” Christopher continued. “It can’t be healthy.  It reminds me of how Tess said you used to be when you were ill.”_

_My stomach churned at that notion. That time was long behind us. And who was he to talk about that? He wasn’t even here when I was unwell! “Don’t talk about that, Christopher. I want to forget.”_

_“But I’m worried about you.”_

_“Don’t be.” I shrugged my shoulders back, finally sparing him a flat glance. “I am absolutely fine.”_

_“Are you, Dominic? Because there can’t be a single person I’ve spoken to who isn’t convinced that you aren’t in your right mind.” A shiver snaked down my back- I wasn’t sure whether he was just saying that to prompt a reaction or out of genuine concern. I turned to him full-on, staring pointedly at him, in an effort to coax out an explanation._

_“What? Tess?”_

_“She thinks you’re unwell. It’s upsetting her, Dominic. And Matt-“_

_“I don’t care what he thinks.” I hissed. I turned back away from him and pulled up my weapon again, searching for some movement in the shrubbery to distract myself. There was a bitter sickness in the pit of my stomach brewing from the mention of my cursed brother._

_“It’s just troubling me,” He continued, regrettably. ”I used to think it was all Matthew’s problems that were making things hard, but the more I mull over it, the more it looks like…well, it looks like the problem comes from you.” I gripped the gun’s muzzle hard, my knuckles beginning to ache from the strain, and pursed my lips tightly to prevent the cruel slurs multiplying on my tongue from escaping. I had one of those moments- I’m sure everyone has them at some point- where one feels they could almost do it; they could almost end another life and feel no remorse from it. I felt that I could whip that gun up above my head and bring it crashing down upon him, cracking open his skull and silencing his incessant, infuriating questions forever. Though, despite those ungodly thoughts, I kept my position and grimaced inwardly instead._

_“Dominic? Do you hear me? I think you’re making things worse!”_

_“Be quiet, Christopher. I can’t concentrate. You’re scaring the game off.” I said through gritted teeth, the gun beginning to shake erratically in my hands. There was then a flutter of white somewhere in the distance, in my line of fire, and my alerted disposition sent a reflexive motion to my hands at once. Before I had even realised what had happened, there was a thunderous blast, and the little off-white shape was stained with blood and falling with a spiralling motion to the bracken, quiet and melancholy as a little sycamore seed._

_Christopher had jumped back considerably at the sound, and the two of us stood dumbfounded for a good few seconds before we reacted. He came to me first, wrenching the gun from my desperate hands with a struggle before taking it off me completely and sprinting away to find my fallen kill._

_I came to my senses and bolted after him, halting at the miniature clearing the creature’s body had made in the vegetation. Chris was crouching over it, tending to it as if it were a beloved pet or injured child. I asked him what he was doing, and with a sigh he revealed the creature._

_“A lapwing,” He frowned. “It’s dead.”_

_-_

_3 rd March, 1923-_

_Mrs Lowe has finally succumbed to the chill she caught over the winter. It is a very sad passing, indeed, particularly for Tess and for young Penelope, who is asking constantly for her nanny, and wondering where she might have gone. The tragedy is somewhat softened for me, though. I think I have become hardened, numb to the sting of death- I have endured so many in my relatively short life that it is no longer a surprise, nor is it painful; it is simply inevitable._

_Her hacking cough sent her to bed in early January, and since then she had suffered terrible difficulty breathing. It is not a premature death, at least; she was approaching her seventies, and had always had a degree of pulmonary problems, still determined to serve us well no matter what she had to endure. She was a very respectable woman, and a wise one too. I can only wish that my last words with her had been sweeter and more according with her good nature._

_I last saw her alive in the little corner of her residence from which she has barely moved since her retreat a few months ago. She was holed up in a plain little bed, lying back into the mattress without clutching the sheets or making any efforts to warm or comfort herself; her hands were dun and splayed out passively, her cheeks sallowed and without any colour, her white hair pooled on the pillow and her chest wheezing softly with every passing breath. When I came in, my shadow fell over her, and she froze momentarily upon seeing me; fearing she was having some kind of arrest, I rushed to her but by then she seemed to have calmed, the panic in her eyes fading and returning to its former solemnness._

_“Dominic,” She rasped, between hoarse inhalations. “Look at you, boy. Spitting image of your father, in more ways than one. I could have been sure it was William when I saw you at the door.”_

_“What do you mean, Charlotte?”_

_She gave a dark and troublesome smirk. “He was a haunted man, too.”_

_I drew back from her, curling my lip. “I’m-I’m not haunted, Charlotte-“_

_“Yes you are. The only difference is that your ghost is still alive.” I frowned at her, and she began to laugh with a horrible, groaning sound. I have no idea how she could still retain that brash sense of humour even when she must have been with inches of death. “He’s sucking the life out of you, and if you knew how much it hurt her- Tess- you wouldn’t sit back and watch it happen like you do. You would do something.”_

_Her comments had at once lost their lightness and descended into seriousness. I have been confronted with opinions on Tess’ happiness many times now- I must say I am becoming extremely tired of them. “I know she’s upset, I do-but-“_

_“But what?” She snarled, all of a sudden, displaying the sort of ferocity one would usually equate with a feral dog, made all the more frightful with the rough quality of her voice. “But your reputation means more to you than her happiness? But you can’t get out of your own head to reach to her? But you aren’t brave enough to tell her the truth?”_

_I had risen from my place beside the bed now, and backed away to the centre of the room in fear. “T-the truth?” I knew not what she spoke of; but I know that it put the most wayward fright into me that one mere word possibly could._

_“That’s the real difference between you and William, isn’t it?” She continued, baying at me across the room.  “He may have been old and bitter when he died, but at least he wasn’t a coward. He knew that love mattered; imagine how ashamed he’d be if he could see his son now, so afraid of himself, so destroyed by love!”_

_I began to panic and sweat. “I don’t know what you mean, Charlotte!”_

_“Yes you do! When I’m dead-“ I had come forward again to reassure her of her survival, but she was not convinced.”- Oh, don’t pull that face. I’m going to die, we all know that- when I’m dead, you look after that woman for me, or she’ll find someone else to care for her!”_

_I could find no good answer for that, and in my withheld rage and frustration at the old and impertinent woman, found myself storming out of her lodging to the parlour, where Tess was watching Penelope play on the rug with a listless expression. On seeing me, she brightened minimally, but must have seen how upset I was, and got up to see to me._

_“Is she alright?” She whispered softly. I watched her hands drift around me, but never once touch me; she knew better than to try and nurture a loving response from my passionless body. “She’s- she’s not-?”_

_“She’s still alive,” I said. “I don’t know how much longer she’ll last, though.” At that I descended to join my child in her play with a couple of dolls she was whispering to by the miniature house we’d bought for her, seeking to escape my wife’s interrogation over what, exactly, had distracted me so much in our ailing servant’s speech._

_“I will go and sit with her,” Tess announced blankly, and without lingering for a second more, floated under the grey light of the window and through the door._

_Tess re-emerged only a few hours later to give me the news of her passing, and until then, I busied myself with the pretend-play of my daughter with the little figurines. She is beginning to say a few mispronounced syllables these days; She calls me ‘da’, and her mother ‘mam’, and as I said, Mrs Lowe was ‘nanny’. I could identify the dolls to represent each of us, even a tiny baby to symbolise herself, which endeared me greatly. Though I have noticed that one particular doll has a rather unwelcome place- for me, at least- in her little childish narratives; one which she has used charcoal to scribble on pitch-black hair, and one she has taken to calling ‘Matt’. Luckily, I am too loving of her sweet countenance to bear to take it off her._

_We shall have to begin our search for another servant soon, though I doubt we will ever see another so faithful._

 


	27. Chapter 27

**XXVII**

When summer came, the sickly sky did not brighten. This was a year, it seems, where summer never blossomed in Ingleton; all was grey and foul when the rain came, and scathing dry when it did not; no weather was pleasant, and the sun seemed to have forgotten our dour fields in lieu of some faraway land. There was never so much as a buzz of insects nor the shrill cries of young birds- the land was dead, cold and dark.

Matthew was something I only saw sparingly; I would never talk to him, even if I was unlucky enough to catch sight of his dark shape ghosting behind the ghastly, clawing trees that lined our property, prowling about like some abominable cat. He lived on the very peripheries of my existence, constantly orbiting me, yet never drawing too near. I had no knowledge of what he might be up to, simply a harrowing fear that told me he was up to no good, and that it was better for all of us if he continued to keep his distance. Tess, too, was becoming a smaller part of my hugely internal life; as thoughts swirled ominously in my busy brain, she began to droop like a neglected flower, to lose her colour and her vivacity to the point that visitors, however infrequent, would seldom forget to ask if she was unwell; to which she would reply that it was naught but a chill, or a stomach-bug. I would always lend my assent to that; I was petrified that people would learn how I’d treated her, how unloved she was, and so was eager to pass it off as nothing but a transient sickness.

It was not the sort of household I had ever envisaged that we would raise a child in; god only knows what it must have done to Penelope, to have such frigid, distant parents care for her! No wonder she was so happy to see Matthew, on his occasional visits when I was away- he must have been a mightily welcome distraction from the usual frosty atmosphere of the chilling Saphney Hall. We found no replacement for her guardian; mainly as I could never be organised to search for one, nor do I think I could have ever been as happy with any of the candidates as I was with Mrs Lowe. And so, for months on end, life was uneventful and dolorous.

 Soon, my writing task will be done. I have brought us up to the events of just yesterday afternoon. The transpirations I will now relate are of a very serious nature; I lay out now before my prized reader the aftermath of my sins. I was cruel; I was shallow, and I was not loyal to that which my spirit belonged. I prized reputation over what I deeply, truly _was_. My act of transgression was as strange and unnatural as a tree dragging itself from the earth and leaving its roots to shrivel into dust in the ground beneath. I, of all people, know now that roots cannot survive without their tree, and a tree too will suffer for leaving them behind.

This was the punishment I was ultimately afforded for my pursuit of something beyond myself; the shame, the loneliness and the horror could all be traced, I realised too late, back to my own actions. I was lucky, I thought, to have made it this far into a life so false without paying the price before. This is the message I took on board, before I tell you of how it all unfolded: you can defy nature, you can defy your own instincts and origins as much as you please, but there is some power, some force in nature which will always seek to reclaim you. The inertia of the universe shall take you by your shoulders and drag you back to where you belong, and make you sorry for ever trespassing outside of the boundaries which were set out for you at the very beginning of your existence. I overstepped the line, and God, the force with which I have been flung back!

That loathed day began, and I knew the moment I woke up that something was amiss. Tess was not beside me in my bed, and from somewhere in the house I could hear a sort of coughing sound, and a very unpleasant one at that; the timbre of which suggested that its owner was very sickly indeed. As I dressed myself, she reappeared, blanched to see that I was awake, and was about to turn tail and run before I approached to see what the matter was.

When I asked, she said she was fine; just a slight irritation in her chest, and a little tiredness. From the minimal nature of her speech, I could pick up that she was not telling the entire truth, most likely in case it worried me, as was a common feature of her behaviour. She didn’t look overly unwell, though, so I decided not to chase her up for any more answers at present. Before I could even offer, she chipped in to ask if I could do some shopping in Ingleton, and as I wished eagerly to make her feel better in some way, I complied with her wishes.  Oh, if only I’d questioned how willing she was to get me out of the house!- but then I suppose, the inevitable would still have happened, only sooner.

Without comment, I left the house briskly and strode off in the direction of the town. It was only once I was in the midst of the markets that I realised I was without a list, and without a clue of what exactly she wanted me to purchase. There was barely anybody about; the cruel weather and direly cold teeth of the approaching winter had driven everyone to stock up weeks ago, in hope they wouldn’t have to brave the bitterness in future. Losing my purpose entirely, I wandered aimlessly through the houses, weaving my way into little harvest shops and buying negligible amounts of various preserves and breads and other insignificant items in the hope that somehow they’d appease her when I returned. It was really very chilling and disconcerting; without a real destination in my mind and nobody to walk beside me, not even a stranger, I had the impression that I was walking through an abandoned city where all of the inhabitants had been vaporised into dust.

It began to aggravate me after a while, so I returned within the hour, calling for her with a degree of cheerfulness that I vainly hoped would put some life into both of us.

 “Tess?”

There was no immediate answer, but I heard some fumbling noise from one of the rooms upstairs which intrigued me. I ascended the steps carefully, feeling as if sudden movements would prompt some kind of violent shock, and saw that the door to our daughter’s room had been completely shut, which was unusual; we tend to keep it ajar, so we can always hear her if she cries. I approached it tentatively and gently eased it open, taking a deep breath.

“Tess, love- are you alright there?” I asked, hoping she would answer this time, and indeed she was in that room- but seemed to have just turned around, bleached with shock at hearing my voice. She had Penelope in one arm, who was looking very confused and frightened, and was wearing her outdoor coat. Tess looked severely agitated, her hair unfixed and eyes aglow. Suspicion gripped me; there was an object, I could decipher, behind her which she was desperately trying to hide.

“Dominic,” She said, biting her lip. “Oh, Dominic…” She seemed on the verge of fainting, and I rushed to hold her, but she slid out of my arms’ reach, grasping the hidden object and wrenching it out of my path. Once I had recollected myself, I saw that she was now defensively holding a suitcase in her hand.

I swallowed, deciding to question her change in demeanour before this new revelation. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you well, dear?”

She gasped horribly. “Worse! Worse than that!”

“What do you mean? Don’t be upset, Tess- you can tell me. It’s alright.”

She choked back a few tears, and Penelope began to cry too. She wanted to hide her face, it seems, behind our child’s angelic little head; there was one regrettable truth on her tongue, I knew, and I instantly wished I hadn’t said a thing. I could say nothing now, though; my tongue was stayed by suspense and overwhelming fear. Eventually, all that could be done was to wait for the blow to hit.

“…I am pregnant, Dominic.”

My mind was blank. This was impossible, surely? “But-“

“Exactly.” She snapped.

“But that doesn’t make sense, Tess, you can’t-we haven’t-“

More tears fell, and not only on her part; the realisation had already struck me, that most terrible of realisations- that my neglect had led to her betrayal. I was paralysed, made mute by fearsome terror, and the sickening knowledge that this was entirely my own fault!

“I’ve done a terrible thing, Dominic,” She sobbed, beginning to lug the case away, and taking the child with her- _my_ child! “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I think- I think it’s best if I just left- I’m already packed, see-“

Filled with panic, I ran to her and grasped her shoulder. “Tess! Tess, my love, don’t- don’t go!”

“I can’t stay here!”  She cried roughly, almost with hostility. There was a look in her eyes- a look I knew well from my childhood, and could recognise in anyone- the look of someone who is taking the blame for something which they know is not their own fault. “I betrayed you, Dominic, I betrayed your trust! It must only hurt you to be around me- I can’t look at you, knowing how I’ve wronged you!”

With that, she wrestled her arm free, and Penelope began to wail; she hurried her away, suitcase in hand, and fled away down the stairs, myself in hot pursuit; but across the lawn, there was already a car waiting, one she had hailed whilst I was away, and she bundled in with all the things in my house I treasured most, speeding away faster than I could follow without so much as a second glance.

I had ran out onto the lawn, my arms flailing to call her back; but now that the vehicle was already shrinking into the distance, swallowed by the landscape, I did not know what to do. My arms were still raised in the air, my body frozen hopelessly in position; slowly, I fell to my knees and pressed my face hard into the grassy terrain, crumbling my fists angrily into the soil.

She was gone. And yet the full brunt of the despair refused to hit. The main anguish I felt was fuelled by two things: insult that I had been substituted for another, and appalling regret that I had allowed the situation to worsen to this point. But wherever I searched, I could not find it; I could not find the absolute, hair-raising terror of having lost her, possibly never to see her again. I missed her- I missed Penelope- but somehow that misery did not touch my soul, or my heart- it seemed to only exist because I felt it was necessary for an abandoned husband to feel such a way.

Frustrated with my heart, so desensitised to real pain, I stalked the house and garden for hours; glaring at the empty spaces where she had taken something with her, cursing the villain that stole her from me, cursing the dead heart of mine that had let her go. This house which had once been my playground and the home of my family- how sinister and terrible it was when I was alone! I had not experienced isolation of this kind for years- I had never been the sole inhabitant of the house, not once in my life, and it was vile. When the doorbell rang at six o’ clock, I was hit with a dart of joy; there was someone here to console me, to offer me sympathy!- I flew downstairs in hot anticipation, wondering if perhaps Christopher was here, or Manon, and God, how I wish it had been.

When I threw open the door, the face waiting on the other side was that of Matthew. He looked unusually solemn and moody, frowning a little and his eyebrows plain and expressionless. It was the face of a guilty man, and in that moment I knew who the culprit was, I knew who my rival was, and it baffled me with rage.

“Dominic?” He asked coolly, stepping into the porch. I jammed the door towards him, trapping his shin in the gap, and he gave a small cry of irritation- as if he hadn’t expected me to be upset!

“I’m right, aren’t I?” I barked, slowly increasing the pressure on his trapped limb to exert the most torturous pain I could. “It was you, wasn’t it-that-“

“Yes, it was- I’m sorry-“

“Why did you do it?”

“What?”

I pushed the door with a particularly savage shove, watching him squirm in agony with vicious delight. “Did you do it because you loved her?”

“No- of course not-“

“Then get out.” I pulled back the door to release him, and he stumbled out of the porch, dazed. I saw him pull up the ankle of his trousers to reveal a large, purple blotch forming on his shin, with red raw tears gaping in his pallid skin. He looked up from his injury at me, confused, and took a pained step forwards, trying to gain entry again. Before he could, I stood fully in the frame of the door, blocking his path completely, and lowered my tone to make my message clear.

“Get out before I kill you.”

And then, for once, I saw something I have barely ever seen in Matthew; genuine fear. Without pausing to tend to his wound for even a second, the man who had ruined the lives of both myself and my wife staggered away, and turned to bolt off the premises as fast as his legs could carry him.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**XXVIII**

Once he had left, I retired to my bedroom. I could not bear to behold the bare and hollow sight of my home without her, nor the fearsome sky which drowned the land outside in the beginnings of night already. The clouds were rolling in with a coppery, unhealthy glow, painting the sky in unnatural colours which seemed to warn me of imminent death and destruction! A foul, foul night it was indeed that seemed to be crawling in, swallowing my life in its heinous jaws; and I could only escape that in my own personal darkness behind the veil of my tear-sore eyelids.

I did not sleep that successfully; I lay absolutely still, like a corpse, perhaps, in my old bed in what had been my daughter’s nursery, eyes wide open and fragments of nightmares and memories drifting in, seeping in like rapid water to fill the emptiness I forced upon my weary mind. There could be no escape in it, not even in the brief dreams I experienced!- no, all was tarnished. No thought I could summon was devoid of any trace of what had transpired. Once again, horror had stained my consciousness; sleep and health were denied to me, and yet there was nobody to find comfort in.

There was a noise downstairs at nine o’clock, the sound of the letterbox opening and shutting in a half-second breadth; I did not immediately equate the sound with that, and thought irrationally that Matthew were here again, and trying to creep in through the door, or force it open!- I seized a hammer from the shed and approached the door shaking and ready to strike another intruder with its heavy head- but there was no shadow in the porch. I flew to the parlour and glanced under the drawn, dun shadow of the curtains to see a youth crossing the lawn to a car on the path- I realised then that a letter had been delivered, and snuck back into the hall to see a small, blank envelope lying on the floorboards at my feet. In my fear and fury, I hadn’t noticed it before.

I grasped at it frantically, still darting my eyes to the door in case that boy, who must have delivered it, drew near again; he did not, and I withdrew to the dark, unkempt parlour to tear away at the envelope. I unfurled the paper savagely; but felt a sob catch in my chest, for the writing within was that of Tess- and it could have scarcely been written a few hours ago! Overcome with the faint beauty of relief, I began to read anxiously, praying that it would tell me she’d changed her mind, or that it had all been some kind of nasty trick; but there was no such luck. Here is what that fateful letter read:

 

_Dear Dominic,_

_I write to you know from my aunt’s home in Bentham, where I have settled myself for now. It is with the greatest pain that I have parted from you, but as you know, the shame of my present condition is too much to bear at present. I cannot stand to see the face of the man I love, the man whom I have deceived and hurt. It fills my heart with sickening guilt. I owe you, at the very least, an explanation of what happened between Matthew and myself in the months in which we hid the truth from you._

_It started last September, a few months after your fight with him; I felt sorry that you two had come to blows, and I wanted to be some kind of envoy, a messenger that could somehow bring you to your former closeness. I had visited a fair few times by then, to make sure that his bruises were healing well, and that day I noted that he looked worse than usual; very tired, and frustrated, too. I asked him what the matter was, and he said he was lonely, so lonely that he wanted to die. At this time, Dominic, our relationship was rather frigid, do you remember? You didn’t want to touch me- you looked like there was a curse in your head every time I drew close- so I suppose you can imagine, when, in a fit of recklessness, he decided to try and kiss me- I suppose you can gather why I didn’t push him away as fast as perhaps I should have done._

_He despised the thought of wronging his brother at first; he shrank from me, horrified by his crime, and apologised profusely for his audacity. But I told him that it was alright; sometimes, I was lonely too, and I didn’t mind if he wanted a little company. He was only human, after all. And- forgive me, Dominic, but I thought to myself- I thought that if you didn’t know, then the truth could never harm you- that I could get satisfaction from him, and ease his pain- and you didn’t have to know of this injury against you. And so, for months, I was unfaithful to you, and for that I cannot express my regret. I should never have done it- I should have known better that such a heinous crime would reveal itself in time._

_Here I bit my wrist woefully, and took a deep, rough breath; the tone of this letter brought no brightness back into my heart. Fearful of what could lie ahead, I prepared myself to read on- and God, how I wish I hadn’t!-_

_That is not all I must let you know, though. I have heard some upsetting news within the last hour. Matthew came to visit me, to see if I was alright- he must have got word that I had left you- and he suggested that perhaps he should stay with me to keep me safe; but I told him that he shouldn’t, because I didn’t love him, and it wouldn’t be right. He accepted that graciously, seeing that there was no point chasing such a purely physical attraction. But he told me something, Dominic. He told me what you did when you saw him earlier today._

_I don’t know if it’s true, Dominic, but the more I think about it, the easier it becomes to believe. He said that when he saw you at our house today after I left, he said that you began to act very strange, and tried- you tried to kiss him. When he pushed you away, you began to confess something to him- you told him that you were in love with him, not me, and always had been. He was gravely worried by this, and thought that in losing me, you’d lost your mind, and were perhaps rambling out of shock and desperation. He came back to me as soon as he could, frightened by his insight into your thoughts._

_I do not want to believe it, but I’m scared, Dominic. It would explain so much!- your coldness, your insecurity around him—I feel unwell even thinking about it, Dominic. We’ve both done some kind of wrong- you, perhaps more than I first thought- but if you come and see me some time, I’ll forgive you everything, and I will promise never to betray you again. Just come to my arms as soon as you can and promise me, promise me- promise me that Matthew is a liar. Promise me that what he says isn’t true, and we’ll make everything better again._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Tess_

I regarded the letter in absolute awe and stunned horror; now Matthew’s plan had reared its ugly head. He had tried relentlessly to untie the tight knot of my marriage, and when he found that he could not pull my end any more, he’d picked away at the other until the whole damned construction had come completely loose. It was all tactical- it was all to ruin me. And now, in the place of my happiness, a lie had been installed- an old lie, one I should always have expected from him. Filled with hate, I crumpled the letter in my hands- this is what she’d been ruined for- for his desperate obsession! For his selfish wants! And now he was leading her to believe something hideous!- Dear God, how could it get worse?

After some time, it came to me that I could still fix the situation; if I came to her to reconcile our feud, then perhaps we could go back to our former peace- his lies dispelled, her betrayal forgotten-yes, it could all be remedied, I thought. Perhaps we could rediscover the love we once shared- yes, this was a test! If we could survive this, we could survive anything. But before I could go to her, I had to discover the address in Bentham where I imagined she was waiting patiently for me to arrive. For this, I set out across the lawn just as night was properly settling in, down the path and up to Christopher’s door.

He knew something was wrong the moment he saw me; he was unfortunate enough to first ask me where Tess was, at which point I burst into tears and collapsed into him. He was afraid, first, that she was in danger; I told him she was only in danger of deep deception, and in a stream of teary words the entirety of my bitter tale was expelled to him. He urged me to try and be quiet; the rest of the family were all in bed, and if I roused the children we’d have hell to pay- silently, he guided me to the barely-lit hearth of the farmhouse to continue my story.

He knew; he must have known, I suppose, that it was my treatment of her that had driven her off. But if he did, he didn’t mention it. I think he knew, now, that I was aware of my responsibility in this. All that was left for him to do was to try and comfort my rampant emotions. On my request, he quickly jotted down his aunt’s address on a small sheet of paper which I stuck into my pocket for later reference. I had decided by now that I would go as soon as morning broke.

“She’s really gone then, is she?” He murmured at me from across the room. “I mean, she doesn’t intend to come back?”

I took a deep breath in repose, my face wet but tears no longer falling. I think, perhaps, they had all been cried out. I looked out of the window; from the casement was nothing but blackness, deep, consuming blackness. Not even the movement of the thin rain I’d felt drift over my skin on the journey here could be discerned against the thick curtain of the night. “No.” I announced solemnly.

“I can’t…I can’t believe it, Dominic- I’m sorry. I don’t know why she did it.”

“I do, and I don’t blame her.” I rubbed my face wearily, seeking to clear away the remaining moisture. “I neglected her, Chris! I was the worst husband- I didn’t give her the love she deserved, and I think she’ll be better off without me.”

“She won’t, Dominic. She loves you- she has always loved you.”

“Not always. There were times when she’d have had to be out of her mind to love me.” I reclined back in my seat, and wondered how I still had friends like this- what angel was smiling down at me still, when I had done nothing to deserve their favour? “Why are you standing up for me, Chris? I broke my promise to you. I didn’t love your sister like she wanted to be loved. Don’t you hate me for it?”

He tilted his head diminutively. “I can’t. Not when I know the reason why.”

I gasped. I knew at once who he was talking about, and though I resented the implication, I knew there was no point trying to convince him otherwise. “It was him, you know. Him who did this to her.”

He quirked an eyebrow and his mouth popped open. “I didn’t know that- why would he do that?”

I was on the edge of ridiculing him for his naivety, but suppressed the urge. “To threaten me. To humiliate me- anything to come between me and Tess. He doesn’t care about the other consequences.” I spat callously.

“Do you think he did this to get to you on your own?”

“Perhaps.”

He seemed uncomfortable then, and shifted in his armchair, his eyes wandering about the room, and finally settled for rising from his seat to address me where I sat. He still had a glaze of sympathy, if only superficial, but I treasured it all the same. He smiled very softly- that godlike expression he’s had somehow ever since he was a young boy with an old soul- oh, how I’ve been envious of that serenity of heart- my chest seems to rage with endless chaos, as if struggling to be set free.

“Dominic, I’m sure that everything will work itself out. The world usually ties itself out of all these knots in the end. You’ll be in the right place when the time comes. What’s been broken can always be fixed, with time.” He reeled off idioms of reassurance like he’d learnt them by heart- and perhaps he had done, in preparation for knowing a man like me. “You can stay here, if you want- if you’re not happy staying there alone.” He gestured to the stairs welcomingly, and I could have cried for joy. I relished the idea of living in a house that was not dead and silent.

“I might, thank you, Christopher.” I nodded. But it was becoming insufferably warm at present- I think the preceding heat which storms frequently bring with them- and the air felt as if it stuck to my skin like slime. I shuddered in my chair, and stood abruptly to shrug the cloying tendrils off.  The feel of rain on my skin was a welcome sensation, I thought. “I need some fresh air first, I think.”

He dipped his head graciously with a twinkle of friendly concern- obviously worried that I’d do something insane out there- but I told myself he was a fool to presume such things, and I excused myself to escape into the cool lacquer of the dark.

I had expected to see naught but black outside, as I had through the leading of the window, and for a while that was all I languished in; there was nothing in that immaculate dark sea, no twinklings of fairies or little lamps hovering somewhere in the eternal, infinite void; there was not even the evidence of stars peeping over mountain ridges in that cloud-blanket, for all the light from everywhere had been sucked up into the awful and inspiring mass. But then it caught my attention; if I had not felt for the walls of the house, I would not have known what direction I was facing in- but there was an island of light, small but definitely, most certainly there, sparkling with an orange halo in the direction of Saphney Hall.

I gaped incontinently, entranced by the spark that danced like a flaming ghost in the darkness; I reached out almost instinctively for it, watching the outline of my fingers against its distant glare like a hypnotised child; there I could envision the skin of a tiger in the vibrant stripes of gold which leered through the thick, black bars. It had not perished in this minimal rain, which was little more than a miniscule spatter every now and again tiptoeing onto one’s skin like a delicate ballerina. I then came to my senses and realised, great God, is my house on fire?!

Filled with panic, I blundered through the darkness towards that fire-fly of light, and it grew quickly as I approached; it could eventually be perceived as a fire, not on the house but outside it, on the back lawn, nestled quite neatly and intentionally on the grasses where the garden was slowly fading into the wind-torn, wild vegetation of the moors beyond. Before I knew it, I was within only a few steps- all thoughts of Chris were behind me now- and I beheld a shadow lurching over his towering flame, waiting for his appointment with me.

 


	29. Chapter 29

**XXIX**

“Matthew?”

My voice did not seem to disturb the man behind the curtain of fire at first; he was distracted by something he held in his hand very closely, his face strangely soft and gentle through the golden haze of the flames. His shadow was cast against the backdrop of the house, enormous, monstrous, and in great contrast to its comparatively small and aggressionless owner.  I circled the bonfire to reach him, and he didn’t notice me until I repeated his name a little louder, jolting out of his trance to glare at me.

I didn’t question what he was doing with the fire, or why he was here at all, but I dipped my face a little to peer at the item in his hand, which I could now make out as a small rectangle of paper. Seeing my interest, he made no smirk or a grimace, like I might have expected from him- he tilted it to me-not letting me take it out of his hand, however- and revealed the image. It was a photograph; a photograph from very long ago, when Matt and I were perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old. We stood beside each other, a horse by each of us- one was Quincey, the horse which had since become decrepit and died years ago, and the other a pale horse I had not seen for many, many years. It was an aged picture, and it had not been well developed to start with, but there was a vague suggestion in the dark lines and smudges in the distance that brought to my mind the valley to the North of Ingleborough. Our faces were impish and bold, and I found myself wondering whether these really were the same people who stood in this firelit garden on this dark, forbidding night.

“It was a good day, that. Do you remember?” Matthew said quite suddenly, but softly, surprising me. He continued in a deep and subdued voice, which (I might have imagined it) carried the tiniest hint of sadness. “We took our horses down into the valley for the day. Mine bucked and I fell, but we patched it up with a sleeve of your shirt. Father was incredulous when he saw you with one sleeve torn off, and he said he would forbid us from going riding for the rest of the month, but we still did it anyway.” He hummed and laughed contentedly. Then, without warning, he tossed the image away with a flick of his wrist, where it was caught in the tendrils of fire within seconds. It was quickly bleached by the heat, and soon it was engulfed entirely by fire.

That savage consumption of once-sweet memories shook me back to the present. Watching the wisps of black curling away, I could make out many, many other scraps of paper making up the fuel for the furnace; in some cases, pieces of furniture, ornaments; it seemed Matthew had raided the house for anything which reminded him of the past and decided to set it all ablaze to satisfy his fury.

I did not look away from the blaze. “I know why you’re here.”

He seemed to laugh a little to himself, though I’m not sure what was funny. “Go on.”

“You’ve won. Whatever your cruel game was- whatever you hoped to achieve- you’ve done it. Everyone I love has abandoned me, and I am left at your mercy.” I grumbled bitterly. He made no movement- he just kept on with that incessant smiling! I could not take any more of it! I turned to him angrily. “Go on. Wreak your havoc.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I want. I made it quite clear.” He chuckled.

I swallowed nervously. I knew, in the back of my mind, what he wanted. But it was impossible. “I cannot do that, Matthew-“

He laughed loudly and ridiculously, looking me dead in the eye. “Why not? Your wife is horrified by you, and even more horrified by herself. She won’t want your favour now. You have no duty to her.”

“Then why do you not take it from me?” I cried. “Why do you sit and wait for me to serve it to you on a plate? What does it mean, Matthew?”

“To batter you into submission means nothing.” He hissed, drawing close. “I have done my best to persuade you. To bully you into something you do not want will not satisfy me. In order to truly achieve my desires, you must give yourself to me willingly.”

I bit my tongue. What he demanded was despicable! Was it not enough for him to have taken all my joy from me? To have spoilt the lives of so many? Was there no end to his vengeance? I suppose it was selfish of me to deny it to him- just one lapse in my resolve, and perhaps he would have been satisfied forever, our conflict resolved- but we shall never know.

I clenched my fists. “I won’t do it.”

His reaction was unexpected, and bizarre to say the least- first, his cheeks fell and became sallow and sickly; his eyes gleamed with a ghostly flame, and then his face succumbed to deep, raged reddening. The change in him was rapid and alarming- the sort of shift in demeanour that one would expect from a madman, and he began to shake with agitation until he could contain the discord within him no longer.

 “Oh, God! “ He howled, almost as if in pain!-I could have pitied him, such was the agony my refusal seemed to bear! “What will it take, Dominic?! I have done everything in my power to change your mind. I have done such awful things! - I have allowed people to die for my sake! I have allowed people to misplace their trust in me, I have deceived and I have stolen and almost died for you!” I tried to interject, but his ravings continued-“ I have ruined a woman’s honour- a woman’s _life_ \- in your name, and you still greet me with this coldness? What must I do? What must I become? I’m rich, I’m educated, what more could you desire?”

“Matthew-“

He seized me by the arms and shook me violently, his eyes a vaporous, whitened blue, and I thought I beheld some ghastly portal into the world of the dead- I never saw a colour so sickly and lurid. “You have driven me mad, Dominic!” He roared, his grip on me becoming painful. “It’s no figure of speech- I belong in an asylum for the things you’ve put in my mind, I’m sure. I have suffered every day- I have endured years of longing and loneliness- and _this_ is how I am to be rewarded, for all my desperate efforts? To be refused the only thing I live for again and again? I’m certain you do it on purpose to torture me!” His anger reached some insurmountable excess, and the trembling man threw me stumbling backwards with a haggard wail of anguish. “Speak! Say something! Tell me you love me- I know you do!”

“Silence!” I interrupted loudly. He was not the only one who had been sufficiently shaken; his attack had filled me to the brim with adrenaline, and I found myself saying things which usually I would not have the confidence to say. I met his eyes stubbornly; I would not let him overpower me. “That’s enough. That’s enough of your piteous stories. Do you think that I have not suffered too? That I haven’t been put out of wits with grief for you? You know it- you know the things I dreamed of, the things I saw- and do you know, Matthew, I see them still? The damage you did is permanent- I have not recovered. I lied. I lied to put them all at ease. You took away all my dignity, all my sanity- you spoiled it all!” It did not occur to me at this point the enormity of the truth I had told him, nor the immenseness of the issue which I seemed to have found myself chasing- but I could not hold it back! No, no more repression; so much had been repressed that now it was bound to escape in a mighty eruption. “You were irresponsible and cruel, and now, you’ve ruined all the happiness I had. There is a black chasm left within me!”

Those maddened eyes observed my words with something that wavered from pity to fear to condescendence; he gauged my words obsessively, and then offered one shaking, jagged, grim response to it all;

“I don’t care.”

I leered at him, exasperated- how could he?! How could he hear all that, and not feel one ounce of sympathy?

“What?” I gasped, lurching at him to strike him for his insolence, but a hand grasped my swinging wrist and held it fast. The eyes that stared from under the shadow of our hands were vicious and beastly; and yet, there was some dark allure in them, something I could not help but recognise; something raw and real which had been forgotten. He took a deep breath, savouring the midnight air, the moisture and the grass and the smoky taste of fire all swirling about. Seemingly calmed by that nocturnal aroma, he began to speak once more with untold solemnity.

“Dominic, this is how real love is. This is what it does to people- it does not make them virtuous. It is a grievous disease which hungers for years and destroys one’s senses. Once, perhaps, long ago, I cared for your feelings. I loved you- but I restrained myself because I knew that it would cause upset- both to you and those you loved. But the years have aggravated this curse. I tried - I tried to remain compassionate, but love engulfed me; it swallowed up all of the care I had for _your_ emotions. All the goodness in me was eroded away, and gave way to a desire that could not be overpowered. This love has been with me for so long that I have no mercy left. I do not care if I hurt you. I do not care if those around you are damaged by my actions. All that matters now is that you are mine - mine, like you always should have been!”  His grasp became tight, and his nails dug into my skin; he wrenched my arms from the sky, holding my wrists fast in his fingers, his face close to mine, his breath caressing my cheeks like that of some fierce hound. Tears began to stream from his eyes - from frustration or melancholy, I am not sure.

“Once we dreamed of seeing it all- everything in the world - and I tried to do it alone, but nothing is beautiful without you. The world is a sad and pointless place. I am forbidden to feel happiness! God- Dominic, I implore you. End it! End this suffering now - or I shall never give up. I will be everywhere you go, and I will destroy any barrier you throw my way - I won’t rest until I have you!” He shook my wrists until I could take no more of it and wrestled them away from his increasingly painful grip.

“Stop, Matthew! Stop it.” I begged. “Please, stop. I’ve had enough of fighting with you. I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m tired of it.”

“Then why won’t you comply?” He demanded. I cannot deny that I was frightened; frightened that he would assault, or even kill me- throw me on the fire, and himself too! I envisaged that nightmarish idea of us burning together with horror, and decided to show some submission that would hopefully save me, opting to fall to my knees and raise my hands in surrender. I said nothing for a while, for I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t know how to put him off, or to make him happy; I knew nothing that would divert him from his wishes. But then, he grew tired of my silence and stomped his boots hard on the ground, sending a few clumps of moss flying about his feet - it struck me that he looked just like a young boy, grown to a hideous size but just as impatient as ever. Then I knew what words would reach him.

“You’re like a child, aren’t you, Matt? We both are.” I taunted him, breathing heavily and intermittently. “We’re children that didn’t grow up. We’re just as selfish and impulsive and careless as we always were. If we could just grow up then none of this would have happened - none of this suffering would have taken place, not for you, me, Tess, or anyone.” I blinked, and before I knew it, my words had begun to carry so much more meaning than I first intended them to, and my sight began to blur with tears so that all I could make out was the bright light of the flame and the misshapen silhouette who loomed in front of their riotous majesty.

 “I don’t want to grow up, though, Matt.” I sniffed, and began to tremble. “ I want to go back - I want it so much some days that I could cry- back before Tess, before the war, before everything changed - some days I like to imagine that I’m still a wild young boy, boldly running across the slopes, feeling the rain and the wind on my face. I wish things between us could be like they used to - like none of this fighting ever happened- and you were not some ridiculous, pompous nobleman - no! You were the opposite; not even a part of society, but something outside it, above it, so much more than it; hardly a person, more a part of the world around you- a prince of the wild, whom nobody could tame-!” I gasped unexpectedly, as if some part of my core had been stolen and I was giving way, crumbling to pieces. Matthew surged forwards and then he was on his knees too, taking hold of my arms and trying to hold me still, although I was still afraid that I was about to explode into dust.

“Come now, don’t cry-“ He said, and I almost called him hypocrite for it - I could see the bright paths of tears on his cheeks, even in this darkness.

“That was what I loved, Matthew; that was when I loved you.” I continued excitedly. “And I thought I’d lost him, the one I fell in love with - I came here tonight, certain that I would turn you away! But look, look - how can I, Matt? The things you say are so inflammatory, and you look so angry - that beautiful, white-hot anger - I can’t deny it a moment longer. My Matthew still lives; he’s here, right before me! And now I don’t know which way to turn, for surely despair lies everywhere in some form or another.” I wept then, my words exhausted, and I found myself burying my head in his warm chest, for that was the only comfort to be found at present.

“Dominic,” His voice was fragile and almost childlike as he stroked my dampened hair fondly. “D-don’t be like that. Please-“

I rose from his embrace, grabbing his arms and standing, tugging him up. I did not care what I was doing any longer - I was lonely, and I wanted him. “Come inside.” I commanded.

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Do you know what you are saying?”

“Yes. Come on, now. You’ll get all wet in this rain.”

Indeed, the weather was getting more severe; each drop was thicker than the last, and the flames were beginning to fizzle and die into blueish smoke. There was a flash illuminating the heavens and the earth; a tremendous roar of thunder shook the ground, and I clung to him in the rain. He seemed reluctant to enter, and so to encourage him, I seized his face violently and kissed him; kissed him like I’d desired to for so long, and yet denied it; felt the warmth and wetness of his skin and mouth, took possessive handfuls of his slick hair and dragged him inside. The first room I headed for was our old room; the place where the old magic still lived in some form, the only place that still bore the spark of beauty I had treasured in secret.

I understand that you may well condemn me for what happened last night. Well, I care little for that. I know now that this was the minutest of my sins; I have committed infinitely worse injustices than this. It was not regrettable; it was the most immense and fulfilling pleasure I have ever known, a fire that consumed my body rapidly and hungrily, and left no part of me untouched. I swear my skin still burns now!- but one would never think that our love was borne of affection; it was a scene of aggression and ferocity. Our kisses were little more than wolfish bites, our caresses armed with fingernails and scoring red stripes across heated skin; the whole ordeal would have seemed, to any spectator, like two animals tearing at each other rather than a loving embrace.

When I awoke, I was alone. I almost thought it had all been a dream- that my illness had returned in full force, and was fooling me again!- but I could swear his scent was still in the air, and I was bruised all over from our collision; I could have cried for relief that it had been real, and not a trick. The sun was shining for the first time in what felt like eons; beaming over the tops of the hillocky clouds, and I gasped upon seeing a note left on my writing-desk, illuminated by the sweet light of the autumn morning- I leapt from my bed to read it enthusiastically.

 

_Dear Dominic,_

_I feel as if our time has finally come. This morning I am surer of my love for you than I think I have ever been. But I cannot be with you now. You have a great and terrible decision to make- and one that cannot be made without great sacrifices in some part. I will do what I can to persuade you, but ultimately, I cannot sway your judgement._

_We belong to each other, Dominic; we cannot deny that any longer, nor can we escape it, no matter how both of us have tried to. If we try to run away from that fact, we will bear each other’s mark on our skin until the day we die. I know you have commitments other than me- it is almost as if last night made me more aware of those than ever before, like I have been firmly put in your shoes now, able to see the extent of the damage I myself have done. That is why I must leave the decision with you._

_I will not hold you accountable for the events of last night. I will only tell you that I feel both our sufferings will become unbearable if you allow us to be parted any longer. I loved you before I knew what love was. I have never wanted anything ungodly from you-only your undivided attention and the comfort of your presence. If you afford me that small pleasure, then I will strive to ensure that you will never be lonely again._

_Should I be lucky enough to win your favour, I will be waiting for you on the moors tonight. If by midnight you have not arrived, I will assume that you have decided to go back to Tess, or something else deviating from my desires. In that case, I am not sure what I will do. I may try and convince you again; I may kill myself. Either way, I shall never turn my life away from the path that leads to you. Whatever exists after death, I know that we belong in the same place. But if your heart is as fixed on me as mine is on you, come at nightfall; you will see a lantern on the summit, where I will be waiting. I will forgive you every injustice in the name of our undying love._

_Yours eternally,_

_Matthew_

It seemed freshly written; I quickly dressed, and I darted to the front window, wiping away the watery morning mist that dared obscure my vision. Sure enough, I could see him walking from the house miserably, his shadowy car waiting to take him away! Panicking, and hating the idea of him leaving me again, I slammed hard against the window, which made him turn just as the door was opened for him. I hit against the surface repeatedly to dissuade him, but his regretful frown would not leave him as he slid away from me once again, and I was left to decide my fate alone.

Now I have to choose between the two of them! And that is what I have been seeking to do all day; it is this horrendous choice I am desperate to avoid which has driven me to write my history, to try and convince myself one way or another; but it is impossible! I am no closer to ascertaining the right path than I was before. All day I have been scrambling my brains for an answer; now night is drawing near, and midnight is approaching; oh, what shall I do? My mind races; and with every minute, fate crawls closer and closer, the horses of the night charge onward relentlessly- oh, if I could stop time! If I could sit here and debate as much as I wished, if I could live in this limbo forever!

If I choose Matthew, I abandon a wife and child; I will be hated by all eternally, and I will put my family to shame. Yet if I choose Tess, I leave behind my only hope of true satisfaction and peace. There can be no victory. Perhaps it will seem obvious to you that I should return to my wife, and do what is honourable, but honour! What does it mean, after all? Why is that what people pursue so frequently? Why not happiness? For other people may be nothing but a dream, for all I know-in truth I desire nothing more than to lie with him in fields of fragrant heather, watching the world decay and die around us, untouched by humanity and its ignorant pride forever!

Oh, god, the clock strikes half past eleven; my doom approaches. The decision on which my future pivots draws inexorably closer; my mind is being swallowed by that gluttonous darkness once more, the shadows of the trees are creeping across the floor, elongating and grasping for me- and this time, I do not think I will be able to escape their reach!

_THE DIARY ENDS AT THIS POINT._


	30. Chapter 30

**EPILOGUE.**

Penelope Howard’s diary, 1939-

5th February .

On Friday evening I received a small parcel through the letterbox of our house in Bentham. There was a little letter attached to the top, which bore my mother’s name, but she wasn’t in the most wonderful of moods that night and I thought better than to trouble her so late in the day. Mother cares little for letters. She doesn’t care for much at all except me- not since she left my father, Auntie says. Unable to restrain my rampant curiosity I carried the package upstairs to my room, and told myself I’d show Mother in the morning if she was feeling better.

First I opened the letter- the handwriting was unfamiliar and very refined, giving me the impression that someone much richer than us had written it. The gist of the message was that new owners had moved into my father’s beautiful old house in Ingleton, and that there was something wrapped up in the coarse brown paper that had once belonged to him, and they felt ought to have been given back to his remaining family, however estranged we might be. With bated breath I set down the letter on the bedside table and swiftly tore away at the parcel, frantic to see what had arrived.

It was a book- a little, leather-bound book which looked as if it could be very old, first bought perhaps ten years ago. It reminded me of this same diary I write in now, and sure enough, there was a yellowed label on its cover which told me it was the diary of Dominic Howard.

I gasped; I was amazed by the possibility of an insight into my father’s mind. I was not even two years old when I last saw him, and my memories of him are hazy and unintelligible. I am not even sure if the man I picture when I think of him is the right one- was it our old neighbour? Or a man I saw in town one day? I could not be sure of anything I knew about him. All I knew was that the family I had been brought up in despised him; any reference to my father brought out a string of curses from Auntie, and a terrible, doleful silence from Mother which I cannot abide and therefore I do try not to mention him. They tell me that he was a traitor; that he wronged my mother, and never came back, left her to care for me alone, penniless but for what her remaining family could spare. She was so shamed by the experience that she never even spoke to her brother, or his family, again, but quite what happened to her is rarely (if ever) elaborated upon. I feel as if I have been quite kept in the dark about the shady business of my parents’ pasts.

I read the entire diary within a night. The story utterly enchanted me- he had composed his entire history, right up until the night of his disappearance- for there were rumours, you see, that he had died in the middle of the night- perished from sheer misery. Others said he’d been stolen away by the devil, but they were simple folk who I think still lived in the Middle Ages. But nobody really knows what happened to him- all of a sudden, he was gone, and until these new tenants had arrived, Saphney Hall had been completely uninhabited, largely because people were wary that some kind of ghastly curse was lurking there even when its master wasn’t. But it was all astounding- my father lived through so much! He suffered endlessly- and it reaffirmed by belief that he wasn’t really the scoundrel everyone made him out to be. I’ve always thought that he was good, always somehow loved him, even though I wasn’t very sure who he was.

I had barely slept when morning came, and at first light I dashed into my mother’s room to announce that I was going to go on a journey to Ingleton. She gently rose from her pillow, the fine silver threads in her dark hair shining coldly in the faint shine of the dawn, eyes bleary and full of gloom. My mother has aged considerably since her miscarriage long ago, and has been very tired; I saw her in a new light today though, for that wondrous book had painted a vivid image of her as a vivacious young woman- there was still a gleam of that in her eyes, I think.

“Penelope,” She yawned. “Why on earth would you go there, my love?”

I ran to her excitably and explained all I’d learnt over the course of the night, presenting her with the diary and letter; and regrettably, her face fell at the notion I suggested. It was to be expected, I suppose- I think she wants to sever all connections to my father, and the thought of letting her daughter gallivant off to his old house must have been nightmarish to her. But I insisted- I was a young woman now, and old enough to make my own decisions- the first of which would be to investigate the mysteries this book had not revealed, and to return home knowing the truth of where my father vanished away to on that fateful night sixteen years ago. She frowned, and was terribly pessimistic about it all, looking as if she might wither away and die without me, but I told her that all would be well, and I would return victorious before she could so much as call my name.

I hailed a cab in Bentham, and began my moorland journey with high spirits. As I gazed at the racing blur of the landscape from the window, a little reverie came over me; I remembered from last night that my mother and father were not the only characters who had captivated me. There was Matthew- and so intriguing a man I could not fathom. I thought I remembered him, from some very, very early memories; there was a definite remembrance of a man with dark hair. It might have been a face I once associated with my father- to be quite honest, I’m not sure I could differentiate between them at that tender age. I hoped I might see him, too, on my journey- but I doubted it. My family had made absolutely no mention of it, and I didn’t know if that was to preserve my mother’s honour, or whether that enigma of a man had faded into obscurity completely.

The moment I stepped out into the heart of that most quaint of villages and saw that great house under the shadow of a domineering mountain, I felt a mystical familiarity. That was the place I was born; that was where this all began. The taste of the sweet moor air tainted every breath, and the purity flooded through my body like holy water, a peace I had never known sweeping through me with every gentle billow of the frosty winds, light with the promise of the coming spring. I could have spent hours regarding the place from the edge of the town, utterly enchanted by it all, had I not been interrupted in my daydreams of bygone days by a huge and lumbering figure.

“My friend once lived there,” He mentioned gruffly, taking me by surprise- I turned to see an enormous man with peppery grey hair watching the house sombrely, a wistful look on his face, but a terribly, terribly sad one. He leaned on a walking-stick for support, but didn’t look too old- he could only be a little older than my own mother. “Have you heard the story about him?” He asked, turning to me. There was something very familiar about that face of his, I pondered- and then it struck me.

“I have,” I said quickly. “I say- are you Christopher Wolstenholme?”

He seemed surprised that I knew, his eyebrows shooting up into a lightly wrinkled forehead. “Yes- yes I am, actually. How did you know?”

I beamed instantly and offered him my hand. “I am Penelope,” I announced proudly. “I believe I’m your niece.”

He gasped, and laughed deliriously, taking hold of my hand in his enormous palms and enveloping it completely. He voiced his extreme delight at meeting me, after being parted for so long, and insisted that I come immediately to his house and make my acquaintance with the rest of the family, whom he was sure would be just as overjoyed by my presence. I agreed vehemently, for I was sure that they would be able to further enlighten me in my pursuit for knowledge.

His family were most endearing; he has three sons, and a young daughter of about six years old, who would not take her bewildered little eyes off me for a second. The eldest son was nineteen, he told me, and I reasoned I must have seen him before; although I think my attempts to see a resemblance were quite misguided, for he had evidently changed much since our last meeting. It was good to finally see my cousins, who I knew so little about. I made a note to tell Mother about each and every one of them when I returned, and to let her know that they were all well, and happy- perhaps after this, our two halves of the family will be reunited- I hope so, at least, if the void is reconcilable. Manon made a bountiful meal for us all, and after eating, my uncle and I retired to the parlour where I conversed with him about my father at length.

Upon first mentioning him, Christopher looked markedly unwell. I wondered if I had perhaps stirred some dark memories that were not welcome and excused myself, but a wave of his hand assured me that I would receive an answer.

“I know what happened to your father,” He began. “or, at least- I know more than everyone else. I do not think I know the entire truth, but I will tell you what I can.”

I nodded for him to proceed, and he went on. “The last time I spoke to him was the night before he vanished. He was going to stay the night, and said he needed some air- and then, he ran off somewhere. I came outside to look for him, but he was gone. I knew he must have gone back to the house- his house, I mean- and I returned to bed, for I didn’t want to interfere with his intentions. If I’m honest, I was unwilling to become involved in his life any more. It seems I only made it worse when I tried to help him. I could hear shouts that night- screams of rage that almost sounded like animals wailing in the dark- and I knew, I knew I should have helped him, but the fear those sounds put into me!-I couldn’t do it. I buried my head under the pillows and tried to ignore it, and eventually I suppose I must have gone to sleep. I’m still not sure what was happening out there, but I think- I think Matthew had something to do with it. Who else was there that would talk to Dominic? Nobody else was left- he never had that many friends, and apart from us, he’d drifted away from the few that he had. He was a dreadfully lonely man.”

I frowned. My poor, poor father- how I wished I could have helped him. “And that was the last time you saw him?” I asked despondently.

A wily smirk came onto that face which quite outshone the misery which framed it. “The last time I spoke to him- but not the last time I saw him.” He must have seen how baffled I was at that remark, and sat up in his chair assertively, invigorated and rejuvenated by the joy of his secret. “It was the night after that I saw him- he hadn’t contacted me all day, so I think he must have been very busy in his house- I saw him emerge from the mouth of the Hall when I was settling down for bed, a little lantern glowing in his hand from the darkness, and I told Manon I had to go at once- I had to see what was happening. She let me go, and I dashed downstairs to chase that wisp of light.

“My first intention was to speak to him and find out what he was doing, but from the stealthy, careful way he stole across the grasses, I knew he was doing his best not to be seen, and instead I followed close behind, creeping after him to discover his task. I had no lantern, and only used the faint glow of his light to guide my way- it was dangerous, I know, on such a dark, deplorable night, but I could not let him see me. I can’t explain why I felt that- but it felt extremely necessary that I remained out of his sight. Almost blind in the darkness, I followed him up a gradually steeper incline; we were approaching the moors, and I ended up on all fours following him for fear that trying to pursue him on two feet would leave me unstable and at risk of falling.

“For almost an hour I followed that dancing light, desperate to know where he was going, and wondering how on earth I could make it back safely, and if he was ever going to stop!- but then, I saw something fascinating- a light on the moors, the exact double of Dominic’s, shimmering in the distance of the higher reaches before us like a hovering ghost. I gasped, but then silenced myself, crouching in the cover of the prickly heather-bushes as the light swept over me, searching for a pursuer- but then the dark claimed me again and I reasoned I had not been spotted. I sprang from my hiding place and made a dash to get closer, until I could only have been just under a hundred yards behind him. By then, we had reached the higher climes of the mountain; it was brisk and viciously cold, the darkness cloying like a vast, vaporous fog, touching and suffocating everything except Dominic and the gleaming figure astride Norber’s rocks which lay ahead, an indomitable, brilliant fortress in the midst of a sea of rippling vegetation.

“I gulped when I saw the figure- it was Matthew, face illuminated in livid colours by the lamplight, his coat blasted back by the force of the wind and his eyes fixed balefully on his visitor. Dominic had not seen me- but I feared that Matthew had, and felt the panic bite at my skin. If he had seen me, he made no indication of it, and waited patiently for the other lamp-bearer to sail over to him. Soon, they were within inches of each other, their beacons united as one dazzling beam in the blackness, their two faces so close and painted blood-red by the colours of the flames; all I could do was watch in stunned silence as they turned to one another, eyes lit by determination, and Matthew opened the case of each lantern. They drew close, and then the wind stole away each flicker of light with a violent bluster and the two of them were plunged into darkness.”

My narrator took a deep, savouring, reminiscent breath, and his eyes darkened with reawakened grief. “I never saw them again.” He murmured, and then tapped lightly on his walking-stick, with a weakly jovial laugh. “Of course, there was no light after that, and I _did_ fall- that’s why I need this now.”

I barely took in his last comment, still mesmerised by his tale, and feeling rather sad. “Neither of them? Not even Matthew?”

He shook his head. “Nobody has seen them since. I didn’t tell anyone what I saw- I didn’t want any nasty rumours going around, but I think it’s safe with you.”

I blinked. “But- where did they go?”

Christopher shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t- I don’t even know if they are still alive,” He pondered. “But at least- if one did die, the other wouldn’t go on without them. I don’t think they could. Wherever they are now, they’ll be together,” He smiled, without even a hint of uncertainty.

We stayed and talked for hours about my father’s childhood, and arranged for his family to meet ours some time in the future, for the Wolstenholmes were effortlessly amiable and seemed to be completely accepting of my mother’s distantness in the past. We resolved to put that all behind us, fix the pieces in this broken family immediately and restore order, but I could not shake the feeling that it would never feel completely right if I never saw my father again, and so each word we spoke seemed laced with an agonising poison- it had all been a very bittersweet occasion.

It had got very late in the evening by then, and I decided it was time to go home before my mother went mad with worry- at least, I thought, I can compensate for that by conveying good news to her. I did consider that I might not tell her all I had learnt about my father- as Christopher had said, perhaps it was better that some secrets remained unknown. I didn’t want to leave these regal mountain thrones so soon, though, so when I found the cab I bade him circle the mountain- Ingleborough, I think it is, that I might appreciate its rugged beauty from all sides before I am trapped again in the domestic prison I usually inhabit.

It was a breath-taking route, certainly worth the extra fare; just as the sun was setting, I caught a valiant vision of red light bleeding into the shadow of the mighty mountain face, the window open and the searing wind glancing off my cheeks and wringing its cool fingers through my hair like icicles. I don’t think I’ve ever known a feeling so exhilarating! Soon, the sun was down, and the sky a luminescent indigo. By then it was much too cold to stick one’s head out of the window, so I withdrew into the cab to avoid catching a cold. I was very exhausted, and began to drift into a light sleep, and would have sunk deeper had there not been a sudden rapping noise against the wall of the cab.

I jolted awake in my seat as if woken from a nightmare, and glared out of the window to see two small figures dashing past the car like little demons. There was another bang as one of them hurled a projectile at us, and I cried out- my driver did not seem even slightly disturbed, and I assumed that maybe little ruffians attacking the vehicles were common in such uncultured places.

“Stop the car!” I commanded, and at first he would not listen, or comply, but after I strongly repeated my demand he finally drew to a halt, looking incredulous and fearful. “There are some naughty children out there- they’re throwing stones at us!” I explained frantically, and as he made no attempt to act on my words I flung open the door myself with an exasperated groan and stepped out onto the moor to find the troublemakers.

I saw them; two little black shapes in the distance, starting upon seeing me and breaking into a run. I hobbled after them awkwardly, and realising it was my shoes hindering me, tore them off and hurled them into the shrubbery somewhere. The ground was wet and rough, but without the damned shoes I made light work of catching up to the urchins, though- and it was most strange- the closer I came, the more their black outlines seemed to fade and dissipate, as if I were chasing a rainbow which continually moved further away.

Determined not to be outrun, I called them furiously and mustered my strength to catch up; the night was cold and frightening, but I would not be humiliated by two children half my size, I told myself! After what could have been an eternity I was in their midst- I could even make out their hair; one fair, one dark- and I reached out to grab one but he vanished, right before my eyes, and a cackling laugh rang out from behind me! I turned, disoriented, and there was a flash of blue eyes which then disappeared from before me, and I was being circled by these mischievous devils, who kept vanishing from my grasp like mist, and reappearing again to taunt me endlessly!- in the end, I was so frustrated and confused that I sank to my knees in the mud, covered my ears, and screamed- screamed for the two demons to go away, and leave me be.

The laughter ceased. I could not hear their footsteps on the ground any longer. I thought they had stopped running, that they had taken pity and decided to calm down and apologise- but when I raised my head, they were gone. I stood and turned, astonished. They were gone- and it was as if they had never been there in the first place. I was spattered with mud, barefoot, sore and shivering- I must have looked like a madwoman in the midst of the moor- but I cared little for that. All I could do was gaze wildly about myself, wondering how someone could have vaporised entirely into nothing but darkness and whistling air.

 


End file.
